It Was Just A Favour
by SingularToast
Summary: How long will it take Puck to realize that it was more than just a favour?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** It Was Just A Favour  
**Pairing/Characters:** Puck, Rachel, their families  
**Rating/Warnings:** M for Puck's language  
**Summary:** FutureFic. There's only so much Puck can take before he opens his big mouth.  
**Spoilers:** Not exactly, just know their history. Everything up to Special Education.  
**Disclaimer:** _Glee_ does not belong to me. No monies.

* * *

Friday night, seven o'clock at night. Checking his watch, Puck smirked when he saw that he was right on time. It wasn't like it really mattered if he got there early or late – if anything she probably would have preferred it if he'd gotten there a little bit earlier so they could spend more time together – but for him, actually being on time was like a huge accomplishment. He was sure she'd understand that too, and would probably praise him on the out-of-the-ordinary behaviour.

Then again she may just hit his shoulder with the wooden spoon and ask him why he hadn't called her that week.

Either way he couldn't really deny that it was still good to be at home again, even if only for a couple of hours over dinner.

Reaching out to knock on the door, Puck's knuckles hadn't even brushed against the wood before it was jerked open, and he was greeted with the sight of his mother dressed in her Friday finest – though the effect was ruined by the grubby old apron that hung from her neck.

"Noah Puckerman," she chastised. "Why on earth haven't you gotten rid of that ridiculous haircut yet? And what are you wearing? You're here to have dinner with your mother, not to laze about with those rag-tag friends of yours!" Looking disapprovingly at his attire – a simple shirt and a pair of jeans, so really she had nothing to complain about – her frosty expression then melted as she hurried forward to pull him into her arms. "I've missed you so much baby boy, don't leave it so long before you come to see me."

"I was here last week, Ma!" He protested, awkwardly patting a hand against her shoulder while he stooped to accept her hug. It wasn't like his mother was short or anything; she was just tiny compared to him.

"And you shouldn't leave it a week before coming to see me when you live in the same town! Even a simple phone call would have been wonderful, Noah! All I need to hear is that you are doing well, that you're not sick, and that you haven't wound up in jail again."

Rolling his eyes, Puck tugged himself away from her and pointed out, "Okay, one? That was juvie, not jail, and two – that was fuckin' years ago!"

Almost as soon as the words shot out of his mouth, Puck wished he could take them back. Not even the quickly muttered, 'Sorry' could save him from a quick rap on his shoulder from the wooden spoon – the one he didn't know she had been hiding in the pocket of her apron. She carried that thing around for years, and apparently wasn't afraid to use it no matter what age her son was.

"Don't you dare use that filthy language around me or your sister, Noah Puckerman! I will not have you sullying Sarah with your disgusting habits." Making sure to pierce him with her most annoyed glare, Deborah Puckerman soon stepped aside to let her only son into the house – but not before she made sure that he wiped his shoes on the mat.

Honestly, he was only here a week ago. To hear her go on, you'd think he'd disappeared for months on end without talking to her. Every Friday night was the same, and had been ever since he moved out right after graduating high school. He honestly didn't even know why he bothered coming over, not if she was just going to nit-pick at every little fault he had.

Well, that wasn't true; he did know. But he didn't need to tell her that. That woman had enough ammunition against him as it was.

"Noah!" Came the high-pitched squeal of his little sister, and soon he spotted Sarah racing down the stairs before throwing herself into his arms.

"Watch it, squirt," he wheezed, trying to regain the breath she had knocked out of him. "You're getting too damn heavy to do that."

His arm suddenly stung, and Puck's gaze moved back to his mother who was glaring at him again, wooden spoon in hand.

"Don't you curse around her! And how dare you call your sister fat? Honestly Noah, sometimes I wonder how I could possibly have raised such a mean little boy." Shaking her head sadly, Deborah turned back to the pot of soup she was adding diced vegetables to, before musing rather loudly to herself, "I'm sure if you had a woman at home she'd have you cleaned up in no time."

Glancing at his watch again once he placed Sarah firmly back on the floor, Puck raised his eyes to the ceiling, unable to believe it. "That's gotta be some kind of record, Ma," he muttered, wandering over to the kitchen table so he could drop into one of the rickety wooden chairs. "I think you almost lasted five minutes then."

He didn't need to see her face to know that his mother was pursing her lips. "I just wish you would consider your future, Noah," she said, sounding almost as exasperated with the subject as he was – but clearly for a different reason. "Just think how much easier life would be for you if you had a loving wife at home who was willing to look after you and take care of you."

Typical evening at the Puckerman household. His mother couldn't go a few minutes without delving into his love-life, or lack thereof. He figured she believed that if she talked to him about it often enough he'd start paying attention and do something about it. Sometimes he wondered if that was such a bad idea, if only to get her off his case. "Seriously, Ma, girls aren't going to just sit at home and bake for any guy nowadays. Hell, they don't even have the time to try and fix up a screw-up like me."

Oddly, Deborah didn't even notice the curse leave his mouth. Clearly she was far too focussed on the topic at hand.

"Oh, honey, you're not a screw-up!" She exclaimed, turning from her cooking to hurry over to his side, placing a soft hand against his forearm. "Any woman would be the luckiest in the world if she were to capture your heart. You have so much to offer! I just wished you would open your eyes, find a nice Jewish girl, and give me lots and lots of grandchildren to babysit."

Not even bothering to stifle his laughter as his mother walked back to the stove, Puck shook his head in disbelief. "Give it a rest, Ma."

Frowning at him, Deborah added, "If you would just consider some of the lovely girls at temple ..."

"Ma!" He exclaimed. "Seriously, enough."

Finally she fell silent.

But then ...

"Speaking of, why weren't you at temple last weekend? You can't imagine my embarrassment when Mrs Leibowitz strutted around like she owned the place all because her daughter's new husband had escorted her. And do you know what she said to me? That woman had the nerve to ask ..."

Gladly tuning out as his mother went on and on about the old cronies at temple, Puck instead looked on as Sarah flicked through channel after channel on the television, watching the colourful pictures on the screen.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

xXx

* * *

She felt so bad for the poor woman. Rachel watched on as Mrs Puckerman just gritted her teeth and listened as some of the older women went on and on about their sons and daughters and in-laws out in the temple car park.

Honestly, Noah just did not understand what kind of grief he made his mother suffer all because he couldn't get out of bed in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel excused herself from the company she had been with and marched all the way over to where the small group had gathered, smiling at Sarah when the little girl spotted her coming over.

"Hi Rachel!" She exclaimed, hurrying forward to greet her. "Isn't my dress pretty?" she asked, twirling so Rachel could see. "My mom bought it for me just to wear here."

Smiling down at the girl, she agreed wholeheartedly. "You look stunning, your mother has such fantastic taste." Sarah, usually a shy girl and the complete opposite of her degenerate brother in every way, had taken quite a shining to Rachel ever since the young girl had joined her dance studio at the age of nine, and Rachel was proud to have been the one to draw her out of her shell.

That was the reason she had started the local classes in the first place.

Smiling broadly, Sarah scampered off to find someone else to show off to, allowing Rachel to move into the spot she had originally been standing in.

"I see he skipped again," she murmured quietly into Mrs Puckerman's ear as she took the open spot next to her.

Deborah's eyes swung to the younger woman, and the withering glance she gave her spoke volumes. Hiding her giggle, Rachel just nodded when the woman said, "That boy will be the death of me yet. I haven't heard Fran crow this loudly since her first grandchild was born."

Both women looked over at Mrs Leibowitz as she twined her arm around her son-in-law's, beaming up at the man who was clearly uncomfortable with being put on display.

"She just likes to gloat because he's a _doctor_," Deborah murmured, her lips thinning into a very displeased line. "He's not even a real doctor, he's only a chiropractor! But to hear her go on you'd think he was a world class surgeon or some such nonsense. As if her Caitlin could possibly have snagged a surgeon. That girl couldn't attract attention even if she ... if she ... stood naked on a football field!"

Giggling outright a that comment, Rachel tried desperately to stifle her laughter as several people looked their way.

Her eyes twinkling with mirth, Mrs Puckerman said, "Do you know what she said to me earlier? 'I thank the heavens every day for the wonderful husband my daughter brought home. And to think she used to date your Noah, Debbie. What does he do for a living now? Oh, still working at that grubby old mechanics is he?'" Mimicking the older woman's derisive tut rather accurately, she then pouted heavily. "Noah tries hard, he really does, but he simply likes working on cars! Who am I to try and make him do something he doesn't enjoy? I just wished he _applied_ himself better. He could have done so much more with his life."

Trying not to let the broad smile that was threatening to cross her face show, Rachel simply nodded along with everything Deborah was saying. It was nothing she hadn't heard before – the other ladies at temple putting her and her son down simply because he was 'just a mechanic' and hadn't given her any grandchildren yet, Mrs Puckerman lamenting over Noah's bad manners, bad attitude, bad dress-sense – bad everything!

The entire congregation was like a condensed version of high school – there were those on top, and those on the bottom, and everyone scraped for anything that would help improve their reputations as much as possible. For the women of the temple, that was based wholly on their ability to find suitable partners for their offspring, and unfortunately Mrs Puckerman always seemed to fall short. Having a girl far too young to marry and a son who every other mother warned their daughters not to trifle with meant that she had a hard time even competing with the other mothers.

And Rachel did no better. A twenty-eight year-old Jewish woman with her own home and business, no boyfriend, and no intention of settling down or having children? She was practically a pariah at these gatherings.

Which was why she and Deborah always migrated toward each other, lamenting Noah's faults and poking fun at the women who talked down to them so.

The one thing she was grateful for was the fact that Mrs Puckerman hadn't yet tried to push Rachel toward her son that day. It had taken years and a lot of hard work, but she had eventually convinced the hopeful mother that marriage just wasn't in the cards for her and Noah.

Of course, that didn't stop her from talking about the subject at length.

"I just wish he would find a lovely girl and bring her home to his mother, so I could rub that snob Fran's nose in it and make her eat her words. Why couldn't there be more girls like you around Rachel? I'm sure, given the chance that Noah could easily make a girl like you – I said _like_ you – fall in love with him."

"I don't doubt that," Rachel replied, linking her arm with the other woman so she could escort her back to her car. "Noah has never had a problem with winning women's hearts. He just has a nasty tendency to break them as well."

Sighing forlornly, Deborah nodded. She knew all too well what her son was like when it came to women, but that only seemed to make her all the more determined to find the right girl for him, and soon. "There has to be someone out there for him, some lovely young, pretty, accomplished Jewish girl who can sweep him off his feet."

Smiling and shaking her head, Rachel chose not to comment. She had known the Puckermans for years as her family and theirs had always attended the same temple. She and Noah had known of each other for a long time before school even started, and all along she had known of his terrible reputation. He was a bully as a child, and a heartbreaker as an adult. The man just couldn't be trusted with a woman's heart.

She honestly felt sorry for his mother. The poor woman probably wouldn't see any grandchildren until Sarah grew up, at least.

Well, no legitimate ones at any rate.

Feeling the other woman's gaze on her, Rachel turned her head to look at Noah's mother just as they reached her car. She waited as Deborah called for her daughter to jump in the back seat, but didn't miss the calculating gleam in Deborah's eyes.

"Rachel darling, are you absolutely sure—"

"Mrs Puckerman, please," Rachel said, shaking her head and smiling. "Noah and I would never work. I'm too driven, he's too stubborn, and I know him too well to do something as stupid as fall in love with him." They had attempted dating in the past, but it just wasn't meant to be. Their relationships were always explosively passionate, but there was no substance. The last time they even hooked up – at their annual Glee party, of all things – was when she had been twenty-one, but as soon as she even thought about solidifying what turned out to be a three-week tryst, Noah bolted.

She was a one-man kind of girl, and Noah was allergic to commitment. There was no chance. None at all.

Not to say she hadn't contemplated it, but he'd made it fairly obvious that she should give up on that idea. So she had.

Mostly.

Mrs Puckerman sighed, and nodded once. "You're right, you're absolutely right. I'm sorry to bring it up again. It was lovely to see you Rachel, give my regards to your fathers when they return from their trip."

"I will, say hello to Noah for me."

Ignoring the pleased smile that crossed the woman's face at those words, Rachel waved goodbye to Sarah before walking toward her own car.


	2. Chapter 2

Groaning loudly, Puck rolled over and cracked one eye open. His phone was vibrating on the bedside table, inching its way perilously closer to the edge. Reaching out and basically slamming his hand against it, stopping it just in time from falling altogether, Puck turned the phone so he could see the name on the screen. Groaning again, he fumbled with the keypad to answer the call.

"Mornin' Ma," he grumbled, rubbing his face with his other hand.

"Noah, do you even know what the time is?"

"Uhh …" Thinking hard for a second, he turned his head to glance at the bright red numbers on his bedside clock. "'S'after lunch."

"Exactly, _it's after lunch._ Noah, how can you possibly still be in bed at this time of day? What were you doing last night?"

Flashes of a nightclub, darkened hallways, rough kisses and demanding hands flashed through his mind. Deciding that telling her exactly what – or rather, _who_ – he was doing last night probably wasn't the best idea, he just mumbled, "What do you want, Ma?"

Deborah paused for a moment, perhaps realising that she hadn't wanted an answer to that question after all, and eventually said, "I saw Rachel at temple yesterday."

She said it as if this was the first time in all the years that the Puckermans and the Berrys had been attending the same temple. His mind was too groggy to comprehend which of a million things she could be leading to with that statement, so he just grunted a non-reply and waited for her to continue.

"I think she was quite disappointed that you weren't there."

Puck didn't doubt that. Most of the time when he didn't turn up to temple Berry would berate him the following week for leaving his poor mother all alone with the other harpies that attended. Ever since the start of high school, and an even longer time before that, she had taken it upon herself to be his voice of reason, his conscience of sorts, and he'd never been able to shake her.

But if his Ma thought Rachel's disappointment was for any other reason though, she was grossly mistaken.

"She asked me to say hello to you for her." Now her tone had turned smug, and Puck's mind had finally woken up enough to realise that if he didn't start talking soon she'd misinterpret his silence just as much as she was misinterpreting Berry's words.

"Don't start on that again, Ma," he said with a sigh, running a hand over his freshly shaved head and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. The sheets bunched up around his hips, and, irritated, Puck pushed them away – then wished he hadn't. Talking to his mother while completely naked was never a comfortable experience. "Look, I gotta go."

"Oh Noah, don't be like that. Rachel's a lovely girl and so good with Sarah, I just thought that if—"

"Ma!" He interrupted, shutting his eyes in frustration. "I wouldn't prod Rachel with a ten-foot pole, alright? Now drop it." He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, so that coupled with a hangover and a not-so little attempt at match-making by his mother thrown in for good measure made his head pound. It was too early for this shit.

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a haughty sniff before …"There's no need to be crude. I'll see you on Friday. _Don't_ be late."

Then she hung up.

Sighing, Puck dropped his phone on the bed and allowed himself to fall backwards again, staring up at the ceiling for a while.

Sometimes he wished he had a girlfriend just so she'd shut up about it. But knowing his luck the two of them would just gang up against him and he'd have a headache twice as bad as the one he was sporting now.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Searching through her handbag as she stepped out the door, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, Rachel sighed with relief when he finally answered the phone.

"Mornin', Berry." His voice was a deep, sleepy rumble.

Ignoring the way he rolled the R's of her name, almost like a cat's purr, she launched straight into the conversation without even bothering to say 'hello'. "Good God Noah, could you have taken any longer? What if I had been in a car accident and desperately needed your help? I could have bled to death in the time it took you to answer my call!"

There was silence, and then the sound of a low chuckle filled her ears. "Pretty sure I'm not your in-case-of-emergency, Rach."

Sighing, she finally found her keys and pulled them out to lock her door. "Well, no. You'd be correct in that assumption, but that's most definitely not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"I ... well ..." Pausing, tugging the key back out of the lock, she stared at her door for a moment trying to think of exactly the right words to use to win this argument. Then of course she remembered that this hadn't been her point in calling anyway, and instead said, "Never mind. I need you to do me a favour."

"I don't do favours."

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, Rachel made her way down the three stairs leading from her front porch and over to her little car. "Could you pretend for just one moment that you're not the most difficult person in the _world_, and just do something for me?"

There was a small pause as he seemed to contemplate his answer, and as he did so she pressed the button to unlock her car and pulled the door open. "On one condition."

Of course. Noah Puckerman wouldn't do anything for free, there always had to be something in it for him. She found it odd that they had that trait in common, though at least she was less demanding about benefitting from any given situation. "What is it?"

"You gotta answer a question for me."

That was it, just a simple question? Rachel almost scoffed – she had gotten off easy. "Fine, but me first. Can you call your mother and tell her that Sarah's class has been cancelled for the afternoon? I've been trying to get in touch with her for the last half hour but she's not answering either her house phone or the mobile. I've got to get to the airport – my Dads came home a little earlier than expected to surprise me, and _boy_ was I surprised."

"But I just spoke to ... Yeah, ok, sure. I'll call her. Now, my turn."

A little annoyed that he didn't react at all to the great news about her fathers, Rachel let out another frustrated huff before biting out, "What is it, Noah?"

She could hear springs popping in the background, as if he was moving about on a bed, and his voice dropped impossibly lower as he asked, "What are you wearing?"

That wasn't what she expected. Glancing down at her attire, Rachel took stock of herself before replying, "Jeans and a sweater, why?"

"Take the sweater off for me?"

Oh, he was playing with her was he? "I most certainly will not!" She replied, astounded at his audacity, and climbed into the front seat of her car. "It's freezing outside and I really can't afford to get sick again."

Again that soft, rumbling chuckle filtered through the line. "You're not very good at this, are you Berry?"

Rolling her eyes, she stuck the key into the ignition to turn the car on. "I'm sure you of all people could have turned my response into something dirty, Noah."

"Maybe, but maybe I'm not feeling particularly dirty this morning."

"I somehow doubt that." Why she was playing along with his game when she was already late to collect her fathers, she didn't know. Regardless, it was something to do as she shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of her driveway. "What are _you_ wearing then?"

He didn't even miss a beat. "Nothing."

Her mind skittered to a halt and she blinked several times. Did he just …? Was he serious? But she was barely able to stutter out a "Really?" before he was laughing again.

"I had you going there for a moment."

Growling at him – literally growling – she said quickly, "Just call your mother for me, will you? I'll see you at temple – and you _better_ be there this time."

Then she hung up on him. Ha. Take that, Noah Puckerman.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Surprisingly, his mother answered on the first ring.

"Yes, hello Noah, what is it?"

Frowning, he said, "Did you know Rach has been trying to get a hold of you?"

"Oh, really? I had no idea."

Bullshit. He could _hear_ the barely contained smugness in his mom's voice at those words, and besides that, he'd just been on the phone to her himself not half an hour ago. "Right. What if she'd been in danger or something and needed your help?" So he was using Berry's own argument against his mom. It was as good a point as any.

But it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say to his _mom_ who read into _everything_.

"Are you worried about her, sweetie?"

"No I'm not friggin' ... no, forget it. She said to say that Sarah's class got cancelled." This was all Rachel's fault. If she hadn't called him and distracted him with her flirting he wouldn't have to worry about his mother about to launch into match-making mode again. Bloody women. He just wanted to pass on the message and go.

"Oh, I know," was Deborah's nonchalant reply.

Puck paused. "You _know_?" He asked, confused.

"Sarah wasn't feeling up to dancing today, so I called the studio to tell them and they advised that Rachel had already called ahead to cancel the class. In fact, she'd organised to have the payment credited for another class already for me as well. She is the most considerate girl, Noah. Such a treasure."

"Right. So why'd you ignore her calls?"

"I didn't _ignore_ her calls, Noah." She actually had the nerve to sound a little indignant at that. "I told you, I hadn't realised she had tried to call. But obviously she knew to get in contact with _you_ if I was busy."

Puck snorted. "And that was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now if you'll _excuse_ me, I have a kitchen to clean. Bye Noah!"

He muttered a soft goodbye in return before hanging up. Frowning, Puck didn't bother moving and instead stayed where he had been all morning so far – lying naked under the sheets and staring up at his ceiling.

He hadn't been up for an hour and he'd already had enough to think about for the rest of the day.

Like that little growly sound Rachel had made before hanging up on him. He hadn't heard _that_ one before.

* * *

xXx

* * *

"Mark, Daniel, how wonderful to see you!"

Rachel's head swung around and she stood up on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of the woman who had just walked up to her Dads. It looked like Sarah was with her.

"Great to see you too, Debbie. Doing a little grocery shopping?"

"Oh, just picking up a few things for dinner tonight. But enough about me. How are you? How was your trip?"

Checking the expiry date on the carton of milk in her hand – for her fathers, not for her, as she had enough of the soy left at home – Rachel wheeled her trolley around and started to make her way back to where her fathers, Sarah and Mrs Puckerman were chatting.

"It was fantastic, of course, but then when isn't Tuscany just a beautiful sight to see at any time of the year? We cut the trip a little short though – just by a couple of days – because we were missing home."

Smiling softly to herself, Rachel then turned the last corner and into the isle where the three chatting adults and Sarah were talking.

"Oh yes, Rachel and Noah were talking _at length_ about it yesterday."

"Were they really?" Her Dad – Mark – looked up and spotted his daughter then and said, "I didn't know you and Noah were talking, Rachel." There was an amused glint in his eye, one that she concluded meant he was purposefully stirring up trouble.

Narrowing her gaze slightly, Rachel said a quick greeting to the Puckermans before replying. "We don't exactly _talk_, but I couldn't get in touch with Mrs Puckerman to speak to her about Sarah's class, so I needed to call him. Speaking of," turning back to the woman in question, Rachel saw the slightly guilty expression disappear from her face just before she spoke. Interesting. "Did you speak to Brittany about next week's class?"

"Oh yes, she told me everything had been organised. Thank you for doing that for me, you're so thoughtful."

"That's our Rachel," Daniel piped up, smiling kindly at his daughter. "Always thinking of others."

"Speaking of thinking of others," Mark interrupted again. "Rachel, why don't you talk to Debbie's boy more? You two used to be so close in high school, it'd be a shame for you to lose such a good friend."

Trying not to glare at her father, Rachel's mind trailed back to their years in high school together. They'd dated for that fateful week back at the start, and that had been the beginning of no less than four separate – and failed – attempts at a relationship between them. She and Noah could just never seem to get it together; she was too focussed on her grades, on moving forward with her life, on becoming a star, and he was too focussed on football and having fun and trying to get into her pants. It wasn't a match made in heaven, but even with their ups and downs they'd never had a falling out. As with their phone call that morning, any time they spoke to each other over the years it was like nothing had ever changed – she'd berate him, he'd flirt with her and make her blush, and she'd try her hardest to put him in his place. It had almost become a bit of a game to them – one that she was somehow uncertain if she would win.

Noah could be _very_ persuasive at times, and with his mother on the loose ... well, Rachel sometimes wondered if she stood a chance. But they had tried it before and failed, so there was no way a proper, mature relationship between the two of them would ever work out.

"I doubt I'd ever lose Noah as a friend, Dad," she said calmly. "Considering we were never really the best of friends to begin with."

"You just make sure you stick around, poke your nose into his life every now and then," Deborah told her, smiling warmly. "You're a wonderful influence on him, dear." Glancing down at her daughter, who had been too busy playing some game on her phone to really contribute to the conversation, Mrs Puckerman then said, "Well, we best be off. So glad to hear the two of you had fun on your holiday. I'll see you three at temple!"

"Bye Rachel!" Sarah called as the two of them walked away.

"Bye Sarah, Mrs Puckerman," she responded, waving. "Well," she said, turning back to her fathers. "That was interesting."

"Quite," Mark replied, his lips twitching with a barely-contained smile. "I see Debbie's still on the warpath when it comes to you and her _darling_ son?"

Rolling her eyes, Rachel just pushed the trolley forward and didn't deign to answer – it wasn't even like she needed to. Her fathers could clearly see that the woman hadn't given up. Ignoring Mark and Daniel's chuckles and not-so-quiet comments for the rest of their shopping trip, Rachel kept her mind on one thing.

How was she supposed to stop that match-making fiend?


	3. Chapter 3

The week passed quickly and Friday afternoon felt like it had rolled around in a flash, and Puck was already dreading the evening ahead. In the past he'd only had to deal with a sly comment here, a thinly veiled hint there, but it seemed that something had clicked in his mother's mind recently and she just could not drop the subject of him finding himself a new girlfriend. The phone calls, the surprise visits, all of them laced with not so subtle urgings for him to hurry up and settle down already. He was only twenty-eight for Christ's sake!

And not only that, he was late to dinner. And not even slightly late, by five or ten minutes – he was over an hour late. Blame that on the blonde bimbo that had refused to leave his bed since he brought her home from the cafe at lunchtime.

As his truck mounted the curb outside his mother's house, Puck's eyes zeroed in on the little buzz box of a car that was sitting in her driveway. If he didn't already recognise the ride, the bright gold sticker in the top corner of her back windscreen was a dead giveaway.

No one else would have stars on their cars. Some people grew out of their childhood or adolescent habits, but apparently not her.

Berry was here. What the fuck was Berry doing here?

Climbing out of his car, his curiosity mounting with every step, he jogged across the front lawn and over to the front porch. He'd barely made it to the bottom step when Sarah rushed out of the front door, her bag flying through the air behind her.

"Hi Noah, bye Noah!" She called as she dashed past him and over to the other car in the driveway.

"Thank you again for the tea, Mrs Puckerman," he heard another voice say before his eyes locked on the pair of legs exiting through his mom's door. Wearing the shortest pair of shorts known to man, with a tight work-out tank top and her hair slicked up into a bun, Rachel Berry stepped out onto the wooden porch and looked down at him. "Nice of you to show up," she said, looking at him like he had disappointed her somehow.

Ignoring the itching in his palms that made him want to touch all that exposed leg, he replied, "If I knew a hot piece of tail like you was going to be here, I'd've gotten my ass around here sooner."

"Language, Noah," she chided, walking down the steps and moving passed him – but not before he saw her lips twitch into a small smile.

The air around him smelled faintly like flowers for a moment.

"So where're you two going?" He asked, finding himself turning around and following her and that floral scent to her car.

Looking at him as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world, Rachel replied, "I'm taking your sister to a dancing class, to make up for the one she missed at the start of the week."

Panic. "What, _now_? But it's Friday. I'm supposed to spend time with my little sis." Because it came with the bonus of not being left alone with his mother.

A smug expression crossed Berry's face then, and she replied, "Well you should have thought of that before you turned up an hour late smelling like you've just walked through a whore house."

Puck's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. Okay, so maybe he should have spent a little longer in the shower … and maybe changed shirts, but he had already been running late.

"Now if you'll _excuse me_…" Rachel said pointedly, staring at him.

Frowning at her, not knowing what she was getting at, he watched as she grumbled softly to herself and pushed him aside. Ah, he'd been blocking her car door. "You know," he said conversationally as she slid into the front seat. Resting his arm on the top of the open door, he looked down at her – at her legs, specifically – and said, "I haven't seen you dance in years. You should give me a show sometime. See if you're still as flexible as I remember."

Rolling her eyes at him, Rachel yanked on the door handle to pull it closed, causing him to stumble a bit. The effect was ruined though when she proceeded to wind down the window once the door was shut so she could continue talking to him. "Perhaps if you took an interest in your sister's life every now and then and actually considered taking her to dancing yourself, you'd see more of me and my flexibility."

Crouching down and leaning his crossed arms in the window, Puck smirked. "You're not interested in giving me a private show? I'm sure these kids' classes wouldn't be great for showcasing your real talent."

Shooting a withering look in his direction, she asked, "And where should these talents of mine be showcased then? I'd hazard a guess at your bedroom?"

Ignoring the fact that his sister was in the next seat over and listening intently, his smirk widened. This made it twice in a week that she had been willing to play along with his flirting. What had he done to have such great luck? "What's happened to your imagination, Berry? It doesn't have to be the bedroom. Kitchen, dining room, bathroom, laundry …"

"Get away from my car, Puck," she replied, her eyes moving to fix on where her hands gripped the wheel. Okay, she'd used his nickname. Conversation over. But he saw the slightly stained colour of her cheeks, and knew that she'd let herself think about it. Mission accomplished.

"Noah," whined Sarah. "You've never asked me to show you my dancing before! Why do you want to watch Rachel but not me?"

"Oh sweetie, I'm sure he wants to watch you dance too." Swinging her gaze to him, Rachel said rather pointedly, "Don't you, Noah?"

"Yeah, exactly, you know I'd love to, Squirt," he said, getting to his feet and moving away from the car. "Bye girls." Shooting one last smirk in Rachel's direction, he slid his hands into his pockets and walked back toward the house.

* * *

xXx

* * *

"Why do you and Noah always fight?" Sarah asked after they had been driving for a few minutes.

"Fight?" Rachel asked, frowning slightly. "We don't fight, we just ... express our differences. Noah delights in finding things that annoy me. He likes to get under my skin."

Noah's little sister scrunched up her nose at that last comment. "Get under your skin? That sounds nasty. Does it hurt?"

Opening her mouth to respond, Rachel paused then closed it again, taking a moment to consider that question. He hadn't insulted her – at all – in years. She berated him all the time on behalf of his mother and for the sake of Sarah, but he rarely fought back. In fact, most of their interactions were relatively … enjoyable.

Not that she'd tell his mother that. "No, it doesn't hurt." She mused, feeling a smile tug at her lips. "It doesn't hurt at all."

* * *

xXx

* * *

"Noah!" His mother's voice pierced his useless daydreaming, and Puck's gaze jerked up to meet hers.

"Hmm?" Was his eloquent reply. She'd been talking to him still? What the hell, he'd tuned out to watch the television ages ago. Surely that woman should know by now that not only couldn't he multitask, but nothing trumps the TV – especially not his mother when she was raving on about something that clearly wasn't interesting enough for him to listen to.

Sighing audibly, Deborah deigned to repeat herself. "I _said_ can you bring the plates over to the sink for me so I can wash up. Honestly, I think living by yourself all the time has put your ears out of practise, you never listen to a word I'm saying."

Raising an eyebrow at her, Puck pointed out, "Mom, this is _my_ place, why are you doing anything? Come sit down and watch TV with me."

For once she was actually over at his place because she insisted on seeing it every now and then. Plus it gave him an excuse to one, not have to leave the house to see her, and two, not have to cook for one night. Bonuses all around.

"Is this what you do all the time, Noah? Leave your dishes just lying around until they pile up so high that you just have to do them? This is why you shouldn't live alone, because you allow yourself to get so sloppy with all your chores. You should get a housemate, or ..."

"Or a girlfriend?" He said sarcastically, looking over his shoulder at her again.

Of course Deborah's face lit up, but he hadn't been making a suggestion – he just knew that was exactly what she was going to say next. He'd beaten her to it, that's all.

"Exactly," she nodded, circling around his kitchen bench to join him on the couch.

This is what his life had become. His mother took every opportunity she could to assert herself and point out the one thing he was supposedly missing from his life.

"I won't always be around to take care of you, Noah," she said as she sat down next to him. "And then what are you going to do? Hire a maid? Or do the sensible thing and settle down?"

Puck stayed silent for a moment, flicking channels absently. "Hiring a maid sounds like a pretty good idea actually."

That of course earned him a swift slap on the arm. Could he ever win?

Apparently not, if her phone call a few days later was any indication. It had been a relatively quiet day in the workshop, and Puck hadn't even glanced at the name flashing across the screen of his phone before answering gruffly. "Hummel's, Puck speaking."

"Oh yes, I was looking for my son. You may have seen him around. He towers over six feet and has a tendency to ignore his mother's calls whenever he feels like it. Does that ring any bells?"

Barely able to stifle the litany of curses that flickered through his mind, Puck leaned down under the hood of the car he was working on to tighten the caps with the phone tucked against his shoulder. "No, but I have seen a guy around that spoke to his mother just last night about whether or not he liked the extra cheese she added to her lasagne recipe last week, even though he told her on the night that any cheese was good cheese."

"Noah, I rang you three times again this morning. Don't pretend you didn't know; I was put straight through to voicemail each time after only a few rings!"

"Ma, I'm at work. Just tell me what you called for and hurry up so I can get back to it." Straightening, he tugged the old shirt out from where it was hanging from his pocket and wiped at the grease on his hands.

"Fine. Sarah was talking to me last night about a conversation you had the other day, and she asked if you could take her to dancing one day. I promised her I wouldn't outright ask you, but I knew you'd never think to offer yourself, so I had to call."

Puck rolled his eyes and heard a chuckle somewhere to his left. Looking over he saw Burt looking at him with an amused look on his face. 'Debbie?' he mouthed at Puck, who just nodded and rolled his eyes again – which earned him another laugh. "Yeah sure, sometime. I'll have to see when I'm free but I can take her one night or whatever."

Apparently Deborah didn't hear the grudging acceptance in his voice, because he could practically see the enormous smile that was crossing her face right now. "Oh Noah, that's so wonderful of you. She'd love it, and there are so many lovely people there that you could meet and get to know. It's always good to find new friends, and I know a few older sisters and young mothers at that studio that could be _such_ great friends if you'd only give them a chance."

Pinching the bridge of his nose he bit out, "Right. I gotta get back to work now."

"Fine, bye Noah."

Hanging up on her he shoved his phone back into his pocket and grumbled softly to himself, which only made Burt Hummel start laughing again.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Swiping the towel over her face, Rachel picked up her bottle of water to have a long drink, waving goodbye to the students from her afternoon class and smiling at their parents who had come to collect them. "See you next week!" She called after them.

A little girl with mousy brown hair skipped passed her, saying excitedly, "Not me, Miss Berry! You'll see me on Thursday! I'm going to work really hard on those twisty steps and I'll show you then, okay?"

Smiling down at the little girl, Rachel patted her shoulder fondly and said, "Just make sure you properly stretch before you start. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Spotting the girl's mother walking toward them, Rachel said just loud enough for the older woman to hear, "Why not have your Mom watch you while you're practising? It's always good to accustom yourself to performing in front of an audience."

"Oh, Samantha will never have a problem with that," her mother replied, smiling down at her little girl. "I can't go a day without her showing me how much she has improved. She's a fantastic little performer already."

"I am," Samantha agreed proudly, looking up at Rachel for approval.

"I'm certain you are, sweetling. I'll see you in a couple of days."

Watching as the girl skipped away again with her mother in tow, Rachel took another long sip of water and leaned against the front counter, watching the two of them walk out into the car park.

Samantha was an interesting little girl. She amused Rachel to no end, but she also brought a little nostalgia to her life and it made her think about everything she had given up to be here, and everything she had achieved in the meantime. It was girls like Samantha, girls who were exactly like she had been at their age, that made her want to try harder, to help them achieve their dreams and become the best they could be. Maybe then they wouldn't have to feel the same sting of failure that she had.

The studio phone rang in the background, but although she heard the noise it wasn't loud enough to break her out of her thoughts. She vaguely heard Brittany pick up the phone, but it wasn't until the girl let out a squeal of surprise that she finally turned around.

"How're you doing? Why are you calling here? …Seriously? Is she really? I didn't know that! …. I have? … What days does she come in? … Oh, is she the little brown haired girl that kinda looks like you? … I never knew that! Hey, Rachel?" Finally the other blonde girl turned around to look at her, and chattered excitedly. "Did you know that Puck's little sister takes classes here? I had no idea! That's so cool. Hey, Puck, that's so cool. How come you never bring her down? … Oh really? Okay, I'll put her on." Brittany stretched out her arm over the counter to hand Rachel the phone. "It's for you."

Smiling at the blonde she carefully took the phone, brushing a few stray bits of hair out of her face. "Hello, Noah."

"Hey yourself. How's things?"

Shaking her head, Rachel replied, "You didn't call me just to chat, Noah."

"Says who?" He asked, and she could hear the smirk he was wearing in his voice. "Maybe I really want to know how you're doing, what you're doing, who you're doing, and all that."

Raising her other hand to press it against her burning cheeks, she swore to herself that the heat she felt there was merely from the vigorous workout she had just had trying to corral fifteen nine year olds into doing the correct moves, and most certainly _not_ from his preoccupation with sex. "And even if you had I wouldn't answer any of those questions, because my life really isn't any of your business. Now, what can I do for you?"

His resigned sigh echoed over the line, and even though she was not a betting person she would have wagered a lot of money on the odds that he was pouting right now. "Fine. I wanted to know when Sarah's classes were so I could figure out when I could drop her off one day. Ma's been badgering me about it."

Frowning slightly, Rachel picked up her towel and drink bottle from where she had placed them on the counter and walked behind the desk to where the small staff room lead out to the rear car park. "Why not just ask your mother then?" She asked as she walked.

"Berry, have you met my mother?"

Laughing softly she opened the mesh door at the back of the staff room and stepped outside, stepping to the right slightly so she could lean back against the brick wall of the building. "She comes in every Wednesday afternoon for the five o'clock class. Sometimes she has extra lessons on other days, but they're all over the place. It's really just the Wednesday one that she has the weekly booking for."

On the other end of the line Noah made a small, distracted-sounding noise before falling silent.

"Noah?" She said, wondering what he was doing.

"Yeah, sorry, just writing that down. My memory's like a freaking sieve, I'll never remember that if I don't write it somewhere." He was silent again, then she heard the distant sound of a pen hitting a surface loudly, so she assumed he must have thrown the pen away once he was done with it. "So," he started, concentrating on her once more. His voice lowered considerably when he continued. "Do you always take her classes?"

Taking another drink of water before she replied, Rachel nodded absently before saying, "She doesn't really like having anyone else except me instructing her, so yes. All the classes she comes to are the ones I run."

"Hmm, good."

Curious at his response, she couldn't help but ask, "Why is that good?"

"Because when I come around to drop her off you can show me that private performance we were talking about." His voice has dropped impossibly lower as he spoke, and the tenor seemed to strike at something deep within her body because she shivered at his words.

"I'll be too busy with the children to attend to any of your needs, Noah." _Why_ she still allowed him to affect her the way he did, she had no idea. It was infuriating that her body would betray her so.

"Some other time then?" He asked, his tone already lighter and playful. Good, she much preferred good-humoured Noah than predatory Puck.

"Only in your dreams," she told him, and immediately regretted those words. One didn't grow up with Noah and not learn what kind of comments could trigger his inappropriate responses. "But I really must get back to work. Bye, Noah!"

"Catch ya', Berry."

Breathing deeply when the line went dead, Rachel didn't step back into the studio until she was sure her temperature went down and heart rate returned to a relatively normal rhythm.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Hope you're all enjoying IWJAF so far :D I'm definitely enjoying writing it, which is always a good thing. Just so you're all aware, not sure if I can keep up with the once a week updates that I've done so far - if it happens, then awesome! But RL things are interupting my time and trying to keep up with that schedule might be a little too hard. But otherwise, on with the plot! lol  
_


	4. Chapter 4

Deborah's renewed obsession with him getting a girlfriend was starting to get on Puck's nerves. The constant complaining, begging, the sly comments – or more commonly the times where she outright demanded that he find someone – were all part of her evil plan to get him to settle down and give her some grandchildren.

The annoying thing was, it was working.

The woman should have known by now, after all these years of being his mother, that she shouldn't _force_ him into doing anything, because that was the surest way to make him dig in his heels and flat-out refuse.

But the even more annoying thing was, he was getting so sick of her nagging that he would do almost anything for it to end.

So really, what happened next shouldn't have shocked anyone.

Anyone besides himself, that is.

"Noah, how many times do I have to tell you? Get your feet off the coffee table!" It was a rare Wednesday night dinner, and he was sitting on the couch _trying_ to watch a little television after dinner. She stood over him looking all fierce; hands on hips, cheeks red, eyes blazing, smoke coming out of her ears … okay, scratch that last part. But she looked absolutely furious over such a pathetically small thing.

Grumbling quietly to himself, Puck lifted his feet back off the coffee table and put them flat on the floor, shooting his mother a look that quite clearly said, 'There, happy?'

But no, she wasn't. "Any why isn't your drink on a coaster? This is a priceless jarrah table! Your grandfather built this when he was almost half your age, and you're treating it like it's … it's … you're just not treating it with the respect it deserves, Noah. Why must you be so uncouth? Is this how you treat your furniture at home?"

_Wait for it …_ he thought tiredly, resigning himself to hear what he knew was about to come next. _Any moment now …_

"You are such a slob sometimes. I wish you had someone living at home with you, then _maybe_ you'd have a little more motivation to clean up your act, because God knows, I get so sick and tired of your careless behaviour. I wouldn't want any poor young woman to subject themselves to your uncivilised way of life, but that's the only way I can see you turning things around. Though, I wonder if you would even consider bettering yourself for a woman. She'd have to have the patience of a saint, and with a hide as tough as nails in order to withstand the filth that comes out of your mouth sometimes. But I just think that if you were to settle down and find someone that truly cares for you, everything else would follow naturally! Enough of this fooling around. Why not find yourself a girlfriend, Noah?"

Looking back later on he'd ask himself why the hell he did it. Why say that? Why open your mouth at all? But whether it was the barrage of insults, the constant nagging about the same subject, or his irrepressible need for her to _shut up and stop talking_, there was really no excuse for why he said what he did.

He just said it anyway.

"I already have a goddamn girlfriend."

He'd wanted to shock her. Yeah, stun her into shutting her mouth and just _stopping_. And it worked, for a while at least. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, and if he wasn't so surprised at himself for saying it, he would have burst out laughing.

"Who?" She eventually managed to ask, and it was then that he saw the smile start to form.

Shit. _Shit_. What was he doing? What name should he use? Brad … Michael … _What?_ Why could he only think of guy's names? He needed a girl's name, any girl's name. Scott, Rob, Nathan, Rick … "Rachel," he blurted out.

What?

_What?_

Rachel! Of all the freaking names in all the freaking universe why the—

"_Rachel?_ As in … _our_ Rachel?"

"Oh my God!" Swinging his head around, Puck turned to see Sarah standing there in her dancing outfit, bag in hand, staring at him like he'd just given her a brand new car. Or a doll house, whatever girls got all excited about. "Are you going out with Rachel! Oh my God … oh my God!"

_Shit!_

"How have you been hiding this from me, Noah Puckerman?" His mother demanded, but the smile on her face belied the stern tone she was using. "When I get back you have a _lot_ of explaining to do. You better still be here when I pull into that driveway young man!" Those were her last words to him as she rushed Sarah out the door.

Shit. _Shit_.

Staring dumbly at the television, not even taking in what was happening on the screen, Puck couldn't believe his stupidity. What the hell? _Rachel_? What the hell was he going to do now – take it back? Snorting to himself, he muttered, "Yeah, like that'll work." Running a hand over his shaved head then down his face, Puck took a deep breath and dug out his phone.

He had a phone call to make.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Patiently waiting for the last of her class to show up, Rachel nervously tapped her pen against the sign-in book she was manning, eyes glued to the double-doors at the front of the studio. Any minute now Sarah was going to burst through them, waving over her shoulder at her mother, who would then drive off back home like nothing abnormal was going on.

But judging by Noah's phone call just a few minutes ago, that wasn't how this evening was going to play out. The problem was, he hadn't told her _anything_ about what had happened moments ago between him and his mother, just that if Sarah mentioned anything odd to her – anything at all – just to nod and accept it. Oh, and not to give too many details – whatever that was supposed to mean.

He'd promised to explain everything to her later. Rachel had let out a very loud and unladylike snort at that, telling him that for once _he_ owed _her_ for whatever mess he'd gotten her into.

So of course she was sitting there behind the front counter, tap-tap-tapping her pen like mad trying to think what on earth could have happened. Surely it couldn't have been anything _big_, because he would have told her if that were the case ... right?

But she had no more time to think. As predicted, Sarah pushed the double doors open, spinning on her toes to wave at her mother, who was looking ... not at her daughter, but at Rachel. With a huge smile on her face. The woman then waved, blew her a kiss, and drove off.

Odd.

But what was odder was the next few words out of Sarah's mouth.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going out with my brother!"

Oh. _Oh._

Noah Puckerman was a dead man.

"I'm ... sorry?" She stumbled while staring down at the girl, trying to mask the anger that was bubbling up inside her. Noah was pretending to date her? What had possessed him to say such a stupid thing!

"But why didn't you tell _me_? I know Noah would want to hide it from mom because she's all bossy and nosey and can't stop talking about you all the time, but I thought we were friends Rachel!" The poor girl looked truly hurt by this little revelation. Or at least, she did for a moment. Then she started beaming and rushed forward to throw her arms around Rachel's waist. "I _knew_ you two would always end up together. I've always liked you best, you're so awesome, and this means I get to see you all the time now that I know! You won't have to keep it a secret! Isn't this great?"

"Fantastic," she muttered, before gently moving the girl away from her. "Excuse me for just a second. Brittany!" She called shrilly, whirling around and snatching her bag up from the floor.

"Yeah babe?" Called Brittany, sticking her head out from their small staff room.

"I'm going to have to disappear again. You'll take tonight's class, won't you? Of course you will. Thank you so much, I owe you!"

Without even waiting for the other girl to respond, Rachel said her goodbyes to Sarah and rushed out the door to her car.

Her first stop, Mrs Puckerman's. And if Noah had high-tailed it out of there – like she expected he already had - then she was going straight to his house.

She needed answers _now_.

* * *

xXx

* * *

He hadn't been at his mom's. He'd fled her house as soon as possible – which was about the time he had first spoken to Rachel on the phone, begging her to just play along with whatever his little sister or mom said. No, instead he'd raced home, opened the fridge, pulled out a beer or two, and proceeded to pace around his apartment.

His mind was working overtime. By now Rachel would know, because there's no way in hell his mother or Sarah could have kept their mouths shut about something like this. But what were they saying to her? What was she saying to them? Should he be barricading his doors, preparing himself for the time when all three women showed up on his front doorstep eyes blazing and ready to tear him a new one?

He'd been about to make his twenty-second lap of the main living and dining area when he heard a knock at the door. Draining the rest of his beer he took a deep breath and walked over to peek through the lounge room curtain to see who was there.

Berry. Of course. Did he really expect anyone else?

Taking another deep breath, preparing himself for the worst of Rachel Berry's wrath, Puck opened the door and just stared at her for a moment. She was in her instructor's outfit again, and he found himself battling an urge to run his hands through her hair in order to mess up the slick bun she always wore it in for dancing. Her eyes were bright and though she didn't look _really_ angry, he would bet that underneath all that calm exterior she was just waiting to release all these pent up frustrations at him.

Why he found that hot at a time like this, he'd never know.

"Look, Berry, I can explain," he started, wanting to get right into it. She never came to his apartment unless invited, so he knew this was the only reason she was there, and since she hadn't thrown herself into his arms the minute he opened the door he figured explaining things was the best way to go.

"Well explain it to me in there. I'd prefer not to do this out in the open," she insisted, pushing the door open wider and moving past him.

The air smelled like flowers again.

"What were you _thinking_?" She whirled around as soon as he shut the door. Turning and crossing his arms, he just stood there, prepared to listen. And maybe blocking the only exit, just in case. He watched as Rachel unwound the scarf that was around her neck, dropping that, her keys, and her bag on his kitchen table, all the while speaking a hundred miles an hour. "When you called I had no idea what you could possibly have been alluding to, and I was so nervous about your family's imminent arrival. I had _no_ idea what your cryptic phone call could have meant, Noah, only that I needed to prepare myself for whatever it was. Prepare myself! Like I was about to launch into battle or some such nonsense! Then your sister come marching through the door, demanding to know why I never told her about our _relationship_, and saying how she's so looking forward to being able to spend more time with me now that _you and I are together_."

Really? Sarah had said that? He knew the girl liked her dancing and she always seemed happier when Rachel was around, but he didn't know his sister liked the girl so much. Not that he could really blame her. For all her nagging and obsessive behaviour that hadn't changed one whit since high school, she was an alright woman. Hot, too. Out of all the girls he could have pretended to be dating, he hadn't exactly chosen badly.

So pushing away from the front door, he asked her to come sit next to him on the couch and explained it all. Or tried to. About how his mother was on his back constantly about cleaning up his act, how having a woman in his life would help, and how much she badly wanted grandchildren. But mostly the part about having a girlfriend, though he tried not to mention how much Deborah had specifically pushed him toward _her_. Things were awkward enough.

"So I just ... snapped. All I could think of was how much I wanted her to stop talking, to stop harping on at me about everything, so I told her I already had a girlfriend." Meeting Berry's wide eyes, he added, "And when she asked me who, yours was the only name I could think of."

* * *

xXx

* * *

Rachel felt her cheeks flush, and she dragged her gaze away from his face.

It was odd, she found herself easily forgiving him for his stupidity because she fully understood just how taxing Mrs Puckerman's brand of encouragement could be. She almost couldn't fault Noah for breaking under the pressure and finding whatever means he could to stop the woman's meddling, even if it had all been with good intentions. Almost. But there was still one very large, very troublesome problem.

He'd told his mother that she was his girlfriend.

"We can't do this," she said, looking down at her hands. "Noah, what exactly do you think is going to happen now? You have to tell your mother the truth."

"I'm not telling her _shit_," he insisted, and Rachel looked up in time to see him raise his chin stubbornly. For a twenty-eight year old man, he'd certainly kept a lot of the mannerisms he'd developed as a brooding teenager. "She's finally going to stop harping on at me every five minutes about getting a girlfriend, and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts."

Sighing, knowing all too well that she had lost this argument long before it even started, Rachel instead started searching for a solution. They could let his mother down gently. Perhaps telling her that they had in fact been dating for a few weeks, months even, then leave it a few weeks longer and say that the relationship had run its natural course. Then they could go their separate ways, which would perhaps prove to Deborah once and for all that she and Noah … that they …

Wait a moment …

"This may work in our favour," she said slowly, letting the thoughts form, not allowing herself to speak too soon.

"_Our_ favour?" Noah asked, shifting on the couch so he could turn to face her. His knee grazed against hers.

She ignored the warmth that small touch generated.

"Yes, _our_ favour. Your mother has been rather ... _obvious_ in her preference for you and I to form some kind of relationship."

Smirking, he pointed out, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again – you and I are a couple of good-looking Jews, and you're great with Sarah. You're like a wet-dream for Ma."

Clearing her throat, Rachel continued. "Yes, well, that aside, her pointed comments and not-so-subtle match-making efforts have been quite tiresome, and though I've argued the point with her many times before, she still doesn't believe that we won't work together."

Apparently her comments were humorous for some reason, because the amused smirk that started to play across Noah's lips left her confused.

"What's so funny, Noah?"

"Just thinking …" he said vaguely, shaking his head before looking up at her again. That's when she saw the change in his eyes. They had darkened slightly. Instead of their normal almost caramel hue, the flecks of green became more prominent, making his eyes glow.

"Thinking what?" She asked, finding herself unable to look away from his face. She recognised that colour. In fact, she knew it quite well, but hadn't seen it for quite some time.

"I'm just thinking … that we used to work pretty damn well together. In fact …" Letting his hand drop from when it had been resting on the back of the couch, Noah's fingers slid slowly down her back until they grazed the small slither of skin that was accessible over the top of her track pants. Rachel could barely contain the shiver that wracked her body, and from the suddenly focussed look on Noah's face, she hadn't succeeded in hiding it from him.

The air felt tense, and Rachel did the one thing that came to mind to help diffuse the situation. She ran. "Oh please," she scoffed, getting to her feet and making her way back toward the kitchen table where she had left her belongings. "You and I are as different as the sun and the moon. We don't work in any way, shape, or form."

Arching one eyebrow at her, Noah considered her for a moment, and Rachel boldly met his gaze as she collected her bag. She really didn't want him to know how he affected her, because this could turn very bad very quickly.

Unfortunately, she could readily recall his brand of 'bad' and it was very, _very_ good.

"I will play along with your little charade, but only for three weeks."

"Three weeks?"

Nodding, Rachel wrapped the scarf around her neck again. "We'll tell her we've been dating for a month already, which explains why we haven't told anyone – we're taking things slow. A few extra weeks will be enough time for the relationship to run its natural course and for us to part ways amicably. Your mother will have to be happy with that."

Getting to his feet, Noah scowled and walked behind her as she _didn't_ flee toward the front door. "What if I'm not happy with that?"

Smiling sweetly, she paused as she opened the door, telling him, "Then I'll explain this whole mess to your mother and let _you_ deal with her."


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, my darling boy, we heard the news! You have no idea how _proud_ we are for you!"

Gritting his teeth, Puck wondered if he'd even be allowed to walk away from temple and back to his car that day, or if the old harpies would keep him out here forever. There was a reason he didn't enjoy hanging around after temple – his business _wasn't_ everyone else's business, no matter what they thought. Making a mental note to kill his mother when he got the chance, Puck just nodded and continued staring off into the distance.

"It is so good to see you finally settling down with a nice young Jewish woman."

Funny how a pretend relationship that wasn't even a month old counted as 'settling down'.

"Granted, Rachel isn't exactly the catch we would have wanted for you, but you did your best, son."

Hold up. "What was that?" He asked, actually addressing the greying woman in front of him for the first time. If the way his mother's head snapped around at that comment was any indication, she wasn't exactly happy with those words either.

Mrs Leibowitz waved her hand airily, saying, "Oh I know Rachel is a good girl deep down, and the two of you have known each other for far too many years now, but she's such an eccentric little dear. If she had only made herself more readily available at a younger age she wouldn't be in the predicament she's in now!"

Hearing his mother excusing herself from whatever conversation she'd been having, Puck barely managed to keep his anger in check as he spoke through clenched teeth. "What predicament?"

Looking a little shocked, as if he should have realised what she was referring to, Mrs Leibowitz said, "Why, being at such an older age without any suitable prospects. The silly woman should have been settled down with children by now, not waltzing around town teaching everyone else's babies how to twirl around a dance floor!"

He'd heard it all before, and he'd never been able to hold his tongue. It was part of the reason he disliked coming to temple with his mother, because these batty old harpies always nit-picked and stripped a person of their dignity.

But gritting his teeth and bearing it didn't mean that he could tolerate their bullshit for very long. Neither, apparently, could his mother. "I'm sorry Fran, I must have misheard you. Rachel gave up a promising career in New York to come home and teach your eldest grandchild ballet. I'm sure your Stephanie is _very_ grateful for her help."

Dragging his gaze away from the older woman just long enough to glare at his mother, he had to wonder why the hell she was being subtle. Just freaking tell her she's out of line and be done with it!

"Oh, I know Stephie is happy to get rid of her little munchkin for an hour or so, but that Brittany girl could easily take the classes instead. Rachel could be doing much better things with her time."

"What, like spreading her legs for the rest of Lima like Caitlin used to?" Puck seethed, not really thinking about what he was saying.

"Noah!" Exclaimed his mother, but he could see that twinkle in her eye.

"What?" He spat out. "I'm just saying what you were thinking. This old bat's daughter would still be going home with anyone who even looked in her direction if that stupid chiropractor hadn't put a ring on it."

Mrs Leibowitz, apparently dumbfounded that anyone would dare to say such things about her youngest child, stood there gaping at him like a fish. Spotting Rachel walking out of the building in front of them, Puck barely excused himself before pushing his way through the throng of families to get to her.

"Do you ever listen to the shit they say about you here?" He demanded, snagging her arm and dragging her away from her fathers.

Looking up at him as if he'd grown horns, Rachel wrenched her arm out of his grip and frowned. "I hear it, but no I don't listen to it. It's all a bunch of drivel anyway, and it's really not worth my time to pay attention to them."

So she _had_ heard it all before. He couldn't believe it! He'd barely been outside for ten minutes and he'd already overheard every single one of those idiots badmouthing both him and her in the same breath, all while pretending to congratulate his mother. "It's bullshit!" He yelled, and she immediately shushed him, looking around embarrassed at his outburst. "Why do you let them get away with saying all that shit about you? If you actually stood up for yourself, maybe—"

"Maybe what, Noah?" She said, now glaring up at him for attacking her like he was. "Maybe they'd turn around and say, 'Oh I'm sorry, my mistake,' and leave me alone? They're not going to stop, whether it's me, or you, or whichever poor soul that they decide to focus on next week. They're always going to do the same thing, and they're always going to find fault in everyone."

Throwing his hands up in the air, he asked, "So you're just going to keep on letting them say that shit about you, and turn a blind eye? What about all the crap they say about me? I don't see you turning around to defend me if they say something about us."

Why was he even saying this shit? Why was he angry with _her_? It was all those idiots behind them, the ones talking very quietly so they could try to overhear whatever it was the two of them were arguing about. _They_ were the ones he should be going off at. But this whole damned situation just felt like high school all over again. Rachel would just square her shoulders, hold her head high, and walk past all of them like their words just rolled off her.

But he still couldn't forget her face the first time he found her crying in the auditorium.

"_Us_? You've got to be kidding me!" She was telling him, her voice rising with anger. "I'm here, week after week, standing by your mother's side and helping her shut their traps every time they say a single bad thing about you. Don't you _dare_ tell me that I don't defend you, because I do!"

"Right," he sneered, crossing his arms. "And clearly you do such a great job of it."

Raising a hand to lightly rub at her brow, Rachel just stood there looking at him for a moment longer. "I don't know what has gotten into you today," she said quietly. "But I don't like it." And she walked off.

Watching as she moved back toward her dads and kissed them goodbye, then said a quiet farewell to his own mother before heading to her car, Puck cursed to himself and stalked back to where Deborah stood alone.

"Trouble in paradise?" She asked him sympathetically, and he just glared at her.

This pretend dating thing fucking sucked.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Slamming the door shut behind her, Rachel fumbled with her bag and keys as she walked into the kitchen, leaving all her things in a heap on the table and dropping into one of the dining chairs, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Today had been terrible.

First she had been cornered by her fathers, who had apparently talked for over an hour on the phone the night before with an excited Deborah Puckerman as she chatted on and on about ' their secretive children'. They were disappointed she hadn't confided in them, but were pleased to hear that she was giving Noah another chance.

Ha. 'Another chance'.

Then Deborah herself had wound her arms around Rachel's small form and hugged her close, whispering that she had made her so happy, but that it was cruel to hide such great news from her. Sarah, of course, had just hugged her again before chattering on about something she had done after dancing the day before.

And finally, Noah. He'd travelled separate from his mother and sister, and hadn't arrived long after them. Sauntering up to their group he kissed his mother on the cheek and ruffled Sarah's hair before turning to face her.

'_Hey you_,' he'd said, and her cheeks heated again now just thinking of the soft tone he'd used. Then he'd clasped her waist in his hands, drew her in and kissed the hollow of her neck. '_Let the games begin_,' was what he'd whispered in her ear before drawing away, and the amused twinkle in his eye had been evidence enough that he knew just how much she'd enjoyed that brief exchange.

But it had all been for show.

As soon as he'd parted, the harpies descended on them, clucking and going on about the 'fantastic news'. Eventually they'd all been ushered into temple, and Rachel had chosen to sit with her fathers.

But she'd felt his eyes on the back of her head through all the readings and speeches and practises, and she had breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was all over.

Until he'd grabbed her arm and demanded to know why she was 'letting' everyone talk about her, him, _them_, like that. Unable to understand why his fury was directed at her, she'd left him standing there at the temple and fled. Again. Fleeing Noah's company seemed to be her signature move lately.

The sound of her phone ringing startled her out of her thoughts, and Rachel fished the cell out of her handbag. Seeing whose name it was on the screen, she immediately pressed ignore, sending him to voicemail. "Not now, Noah," she said out loud, dropping the phone and propping her head up against one hand on the table. "I'm really not in the mood."

Her phone buzzed once more, indicating that she'd received a voicemail message. Not long after it vibrated again, showing that a new text message had come through.

Picking up the cell again, she flicked through to the message, and couldn't help the slow smile that crossed her face. She was annoyed at him, but that damned man always knew how to make her smile again.

[ _Im a dick, youre great. We still fake-ok?_ ]

Her thumbs hovered over the keypad, musing over whether or not she should even reply. But she gave in. Somehow she always gave in to him.

[ _Sure._ ]

But later that night, when she was sitting on her couch just watching a little television before bed, two phone calls had her reconsidering that decision.

Feeling the need to apologise for snapping at him at temple, Rachel picked up her phone and searched for Noah's number. She wanted to say she was sorry, but she also wanted to organise a little family gathering for later next week. If they were playing at being together, it couldn't hurt to act the part, especially now that their families knew about 'them'. It would be out of character for her not to include their families in things now that their 'relationship' was out in the open. Finding Noah's name, she pressed call and listened as it started to ring.

One ring. Two rings. Three, then four rings went by. But as the call connected, she heard fumbling and harsh breathing, before Noah's voice filled her ears. "Hello? Rach? What … what's up? You alright?"

Hearing a muffled protest in the background, one that was suspiciously female, Rachel frowned and bit her lip. Was that …? "Yes, I'm fine. I just wanted to apologise for this morning. I hope I didn't hurt you by snapping, but the entire situation just frustrates me. They're always like that, and having you turn around and basically blame me for their actions just made me so mad. Are you okay?"

"I'm ... uh …" More muffled voices, and definitely a disgruntled female whine, before he said, "Yeah, good, great. Look, now's not exactly … uh, a good time."

Oh. God. "You're with someone, aren't you?" she whispered, her face flushing with heat. How embarrassing! He was … and the woman was probably … and she'd called him … and he'd _answered_!

"Uh … well, yeah …"

Then she heard it. "Puck!" Complained whoever was there with him. "Hang up and _do_ something, I'm … oh _god_ …"

Hands shaking, and her skin somehow growing even warmer, Rachel strangled out an apology before hanging up on him. Dropping the phone as if it was burning her, she covered her face with her hands and started shaking her head repeatedly. That was so mortifying. She only hoped he hadn't actually been doing anything while she was speaking, because that would have been too much, just too much. And what was he doing answering the phone while engaging in relations with a woman! No wonder the other girl was so irritated that he wasn't paying attention to her.

Another wave of embarrassment flushed through her, but following soon after it was curiosity. Why had he answered her call if he was with someone else?

That question occupied her thoughts for quite some time as she finished her program and readied for bed. She lay there for a while, just staring at the words of the open book in her lap, not really taking anything in. But when her phone rang again, she sat bolt upright and reached over to her bedside table.

Incoming Call … Noah Puckerman.

She shouldn't answer it. She should ignore him. It might be that woman telling her not to be intrusive, because really, she shouldn't be calling a single male during the evening unless she knows he's available to talk.

But she answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Rach, hey," he said, his voice quiet.

"What can I do for you?" She didn't want this to be a social call. She was still embarrassed for interrupting … whatever it was she had interrupted, and confused as to why he'd answered her call in the first place. All while wondering why he was calling her now.

Continuing in the same soft voice he'd used before, Noah said, "Look, I just wanted to say sorry for … earlier. I kinda wasn't thinking, distracted, you know? And I saw your call come in and … yeah. Just … yeah. Sorry."

Frowning, Rachel asked, "Noah, why are you so quiet? Where are you?"

He paused before answering. "I'm at home …"

He was at home and trying not to talk too loudly? He was … "She's still there," Rachel guessed aloud, and Noah didn't refute her. "If your mother, or anyone else for that matter, found out about this, you'd be a dead man," she told him, the thought only just occurring to her. He was sleeping with some bimbo while they were supposedly dating! Or fake-dating, whichever it was. "I hope you were discreet. The last thing you need if for someone to spot you with a woman that isn't me."

"What?" He said, his voice a little louder now as he sounded surprised. "I don't think you really have a say in how I do things, to be honest."

"Excuse me?" She asked. "How do I not have a say in things? If you're apparently dating me, don't you think it would be just a little suspicious for you to still be coming home with a different woman every night? I know you're not a saint, Noah, but even I would expect you to be faithful in a relationship."

Hearing a door open and close in the background, Rachel wondered where he was going. "Right. So let me get this straight." Another door opened and closed and his voice echoed a lot less. He must have walked outside. "You're saying I should be faithful. To _you_. A woman I'm not actually fucking dating?"

"What? No! I just …" How had they even gotten onto this topic? "I'm just pointing out that if you really were dating me, I'd expect you to be faithful, and everyone knows that. I just … just be discreet, Noah. Please, for both our sakes."

Listening as he sighed on the other end of the line, Rachel just stared down at her bed cover and waited for him to speak. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Yeah, you're right. Okay." There was another brief pause, and then he asked, "You didn't, uh … hear anything before, did you?"

No, she hadn't heard anything. She hadn't heard the breathless moan the unknown woman had emitted right before she hung up the phone. She hadn't imagined the things he must have done to her to make that noise. Not at all. "Nope, not a thing," she promised him, crossing her fingers against the lie. Quickly changing the subject, she organised with him to have dinner with his mother the following Thursday before saying a quick goodnight and hanging up.

This pretend dating thing was a lot more trouble than it was worth.


	6. Chapter 6

The two blondes at the end of the bar had been eyeing him and Finn off ever since they walked in. Even now, one of them held his gaze as he looked their way once more before smiling coyly and turning back to her friend.

"Dude, just go talk to them," Finn said, nudging his arm.

Chuckling to himself, Puck continued to sip at his beer and shook his head. "Nah, man."

"Aw, yeah, come on!" His friend begged, looking over his shoulder again just as the first blonde's friend glanced back at them. Both girls giggled and waved at them before returning to their conversations. "Come on, man, we'd totally be in!"

"So go over there," Puck told him, holding up his hands in a surrender gesture. "I'm not stopping you."

Looking back over his shoulder again longingly, Finn said, "Yeah, but I'd just screw it all up and get slapped again or something. That's why you gotta come with me."

Glancing over at the two girls one last time, Puck almost gave in. Almost. He was absolutely about to get up, walk over there, and—but he couldn't do it. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him it was a bad idea, that he really shouldn't, that if he was taking this stupid relationship thing seriously he couldn't even hit on chicks with his best mate anymore. The fact that his brain conjured up Rachel's voice and disappointed face helped to make up his mind. He was getting cock-blocked by a fake relationship. "Nah, man, I can't. You go."

Confused, Finn looked back at him with a frown and asked, "What do you mean, you can't?"

He'd known this was going to come up as soon as Finn called him that afternoon to catch up over a couple of beers. Hoped it wouldn't, but knew it would. "It's Rachel."

If it was possible, Finn's confused look only deepened and he just stared at Puck for a moment. "Rachel? _Our_ Rachel? What's she got to do with anything?"

Taking a deep breath and an even deeper sip of his beer for a little liquid courage, he finally said, "I'm kinda dating her."

Totally silent as he just gaped at Puck for a moment, his friend eventually spluttered, "That's fuckin' insane, man! That's so cool!"

Wait, what? "Cool?" He asked, a little confused now himself.

"Well, yeah, I mean, you guys have been on and off since high school right? And you've always said she was hot and whatever. Maybe this time you'll actually get it together and—"

"Woah, woah, hold up," Puck said in between chuckles, shaking his head. "It's only been a couple of weeks. We're just taking things slow, alright?" Jesus, if that's what his best friend thought, no wonder his damn mother was so wrapped about this whole thing.

"Well, where is she? Ring her! Tell her to come here. We haven't caught up in ages."

So that's how he ended up standing at the bar with Finn, his phone ringing between them on loudspeaker as he waited for Rachel to answer the call.

"What is it Noah? I'm a little busy, and– what's all that noise? Where are you? Oh God, are you … you're not …"

"Babe, I'm at the pub with Finn, and you're on loudspeaker," he said quickly, not really wanting her to get worried or flustered or mention that stupid phone call he'd answered two days before. "He wants you to come meet us here. To catch up."

"Oh. Hello Finn. Uh– sure. Just give me a minute, and I'll head over. See you soon."

He couldn't even honestly say that it was entirely for Finn's benefit when he replied, "Looking forward to it."

For about twenty minutes the two boys stood there, Puck sipping slowly at his beer and Finn asking him incessantly about how things between him and Rachel started. He didn't answer any of the guy's questions but that didn't stop him asking them, so he just sat there in relative silence and put up with the noise until Rachel arrived, looking at the door every time it opened in case it was her.

So when she finally opened the door and her eyes locked to his when he turned around, Puck immediately got up off his stool to walk over and meet her. Watching as her cheeks flushed and grew redder the closer he got, he ducked his head slightly when he got close to her so he could meet her gaze. She shifted slightly on the spot, her eyes clashing with his again hesitantly, and she nervously hefted her handbag more securely onto her shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured, reaching to clasp her hand in his. Again he'd say it was all a show for Finn, but really he just wanted to smooth things over. That, and he'd never been able to quell the urge to touch her when she was near, and their charade gave him the perfect excuse to do so. "We good?"

Taking a deep breath, she told him, "I'm here to catch up with Finn, and to play your girlfriend. That makes us okay, but not good."

Yeah, okay, he could handle that. "Look, about—"

"Noah," she said hurriedly, shaking her head. "Drop it. I don't care. Now, let me go say hello to Finn." She looked up at him with pleading eyes, and he pulled a face. She may just want to put it behind them, but he still felt weird about the whole situation.

"I just—"

"_Puck_."

She'd used his nickname; he backed down. Rachel let go of his hand then and pushed past him, a smile lighting up her face as she went to greet his friend at the bar while he played over her words in his head as he walked back in that direction.

She 'didn't care'? The fact that she'd called him in the middle of fucking some chick didn't bother her, was that it? Yet she'd rattled off that whole spiel about it being bad for their fake-relationship? Whatever.

But when they both reached the bar and Finn wrapped her up in a big hug, kissing her cheek loudly and commenting on how great she looked, Puck wondered if a normal boyfriend was allowed to tell their best mate to back off for something so simple.

Finn was right though. The tight jeans, flow-y top and whatever she had done with her hair and makeup made her look smokin' hot. He wondered if that was for his benefit or Finn's.

During the first round he figured it was for his, because she kept her hand on his knee the whole time while they sat on the barstools, and she was throwing these seductive little smiles in his direction as she answered all the questions he'd refused to. After a while her hand started moving slowly against his leg, and even through his jeans it made the skin there warm. And whether it was an accident or not, when her hand crept a little too high he let out a low hiss and reached down to weave his fingers through hers, tugging her hand back to a safe place. The wide eyed look she shot him looked innocent enough, but the blush staining her cheeks proved she knew what she'd done regardless.

She could do it again, as far as he was concerned. Any time.

Then when she'd leaned in close to tell him she was just heading to the bathroom, he caught a whiff of that flowery scent she always seemed to wear and got an eyeful of her fantastic cleavage, and wondered what he'd done right that day to earn himself all this.

For someone who hadn't dated in a while – years, as far as he knew – she certainly still knew what she was doing. Good thing too, because he really had no idea what he was supposed to be doing to pull this thing off.

But things took a bit of a turn after that. When their second and third rounds came through, and Rachel started getting a little tipsy, he began to realise that all the attention she had been paying to him? Sometime ago it had been switched to Finn, and he hadn't even noticed it happening.

Finn's arm was draped around her shoulders and he was murmuring something in her ear, making her giggled loudly. Her hand was resting on the guy's knee too. Yeah. He noticed _that_ pretty damn quickly, and he was pretty sure both of them were way out of line, fake-relationship or not. Imagining her 'accidently' grazing Hudson's thigh made him angry as hell and he wanted to snatch her hand away.

"So, babe," he said casually, leaning in and wrapping an arm around her waist, dragging her – and the stool – back to him. "What do you say we make it a night? I'm beat."

Immediately shaking her head, Rachel pouted and tried to move her body away from his. "But I'm having so much fun talking to Finn, aren't I Finny?"

Finn, who apparently couldn't read the look of death Puck shot him at those words, smiled happily and said. "Yeah! We haven't seen each other in, like, forever man! This is fun!" His eyes widened and his smile broadened when the music in the pub changed to another song. "Hey, Rach, wanna go dance or something? You dance, right?"

"Yes! Definitely!" Sliding off her stool before Puck could even say anything, she turned to hand him her purse and smile brightly. "You'll save our seats, won't you?"

"Nah, babe, seriously," he said through gritted teeth, reaching out to snag her hand and pull her closer to him again. "Let's head home."

"But _Noah_, I want to have one dance with—"

"Like hell," he replied, feeling his patience snap. "We're getting out of here. I'll drive you home." Getting off his stool and taking her hand in his, he didn't even let her say goodbye, instead just muttering, "Later dude," as he ushered her out of the pub.

"Noah," she snapped, trying to tug her hand out of his as they walked through the door.

But he just made a beeline for his truck, not paying her any attention.

"_Noah_," she said again, wrenching her arm strongly, digging in her heels and pulling away from him.

"_What_?"

"What the hell is your problem!"

Like she didn't fucking know. "You are! You and fucking Finn." Wrenching the passenger side door open, he bit out, "Get in the truck."

Folding her arms and raising her chin defiantly, Rachel replied with a resound, "No."

Arching a brow at her, hoping she would realise soon that the longer she kept this up the angrier he was getting, he said slowly, "Get in the truck."

"No. I'll drive myself home, thank you."

"Like hell you will! You'll easily blow over the limit. Just get in the goddamn truck."

At least logic hadn't failed her completely. With one last glare in his direction, Rachel climbed up and sat down with an almighty huff, and Puck slammed the door shut behind her.

They didn't talk the whole way back to her place, but inside Puck seethed. He couldn't even pinpoint exactly which part had made him so goddamn mad. Yeah, so his best friend was maybe hitting on his girlfriend. It wasn't like he was usually monogamous with his girls anyway, so even Finn knew that was hardly a problem. Plus she wasn't even his fucking girlfriend! But then she'd refused to listen to him when he'd tried to be subtle or whatever, and she'd almost made a goddamn scene in the car park as they left.

But when he focussed _her_ and the way she'd had her hand on him, then he way she'd had her hands on Finn, all he could hear was her sweet, soft voice coyly asking him to save their seats so she could go dancing with someone else.

And she was a dance instructor, so her going dancing was _nothing_. Not like Finn could dance anyway, he just flung his limbs around like he was having a fit.

Puck's mind darted back to their high school days when Rachel would throw herself at the guy every time she was single, and he shook his head disbelievingly. What was it about Finn? Women always fell for him because he was goofy and clumsy and they somehow thought it was adorable that he seriously used to believe you could get AIDS from vegetables.

His anger at the woman sitting beside him, his best friend back at the bar, and the intense silence around him kept him occupied until they pulled up to Rachel's driveway fifteen minutes later. As soon as he cut the engine she flung her door open, stumbled out in those heels of hers and marched up the driveway.

"Just wait a fucking minute," he called out the window as he threw his seatbelt aside and opened his own door to jog after her. "Rachel, hey …!"

Standing at her door searching hurriedly through her handbag for her keys, she didn't pay much attention to him. "You don't get it," he heard her mumble, and he had to roll his eyes.

"Look, we need to talk or something about this whole relationship thing, alright? 'Cause clearly _neither_ of us are really getting it."

"Oh, I get it Noah, don't you worry about that," she said shrilly, finally clasping her keys in her hand and opening her door. Apparently she had intended on slamming it shut behind her too, because he had to throw out an arm to stop it.

Grumbling to himself, not caring that his old piece of shit truck was sitting in the driveway completely unlocked with his window down, Puck trudged in after her and shut the door. Looking around for a moment, he couldn't help but be impressed. He'd never been to this place before, and it looked like she'd done pretty well for herself.

Walking down the hallway to where he could hear her dropping her things loudly in the kitchen, Puck rounded the corner and glared at her, crossing his arms. "Right, that's real mature," he said rudely, watching as she moved about the room. "Just walk away from me and try to slam the door in my face. Real nice, great way to treat your _boyfriend_."

"That's just it!" She said, dropping her hands down heavily on the kitchen counter, staring over at him. "You're supposedly my boyfriend, Noah, and yet while it's perfectly alright for you to head out to the pub with the boys and take home women, I'm not even allowed to talk and dance with an old friend!"

Scrunching his face into a frown, Puck shook his head. "Rach, did you even see yourself? You were all giggly and flirty and had your hands on him. While I sat right next to you! What if, like you said, someone we knew saw that?"

"How is that—I've always tended to show my emotions in a physical manner, Noah," she pointed out, hands on hips as she frowned right back at him. "But I don't see how that is even comparable to your own actions." Stepping away she moved back to the dining table to look for something in her hand bag.

Jesus, even tipsy she sounded like a frigging English teacher. Walking a few steps forward, he said, "You were flirting with some other guy right in front of me! You were—"

"You fucked some other woman!" She yelled at him, whirling around to stab at him in the chest with her finger. He wasn't sure if it was the uncharacteristic swearing, the fierceness with which she rounded on him, or how sexy she looked with her hair askew and her eyes blazing, but Puck halted in his tracks and shut his mouth. "You took some tart home, slept with her, and then answered my phone call in the middle of it. _Then_ you had the nerve to call me back when she was still in the house! And when I spoke to you about my fears of keeping this ruse intact because of your behaviour, you started getting defensive. I mean, who was I to suggest that you try to keep it in your pants for once?" The last was said sarcastically, and if this had been any other time he might have congratulated her for growing some balls and speaking her mind.

But since it was all directed at him, he wasn't feeling too damn happy about it. "Rachel," he said in a warning tone. "I don't really think I need to remind you that you're not _actually_ my girlfriend, so it's not _actually_ any of your business what I do or who I fuck."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth though, Puck wanted to take them back. Rachel's expression fell, and even though it was only a brief glimpse he still saw the hurt that she tried to hide. Fuck.

"You made all that my business when you roped me into this situation," she pointed out quietly. "I didn't ask for this, Noah. Yes, maybe I suggested that we continue this farce of a relationship for our benefit, but I never asked for all this. You and your big mouth did. A little respect for doing you this favour wouldn't go astray."

Growling softly in frustration, Puck turned away and ran a hand over his head. This whole thing was such a fucking headache, and it had barely even started. They'd already gotten into three arguments in under a week, and his rational mind pointed out that at least they seemed to pull off that part of the relationship well.

"We're going to have to lay down some rules if we can't trust each other."

It didn't take long for the frown to return. "What? You can trust me!"

Shaking her head, Rachel said, "No, I can't Noah. I didn't miss those two women sitting down the end of the bar from us. If looks could kill I would have been sprawled on the sticky floor shaking with post-mortem nerve twitches."

Rolling his eyes again. "Fine, whatever. Rules. What rules have you got for me then?" No doubt she had a list. Rachel had lists for everything. He only had one thing on his list; no more flirting with Finn. No, no handsy flirting with Finn. Fuck it, no handsy flirting with anyone.

Except him. If she wanted to get hands again with him, Puck wouldn't say no.

"Just one." Her words jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her.

"What's that?"

Biting her lip, Rachel pressed on. "You have to stop sleeping around."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Don't kill me! Part 7 is literally around the corner. This entire scene was getting a little wordy, so I've had to split it over two parts.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_You have to stop sleeping around._

Shocked, Puck just stood there while her words tumbled through his mind. Just blinking for a moment, he tried to stop the words 'get fucked' from falling from his lips, but it was damned hard. "No," he said instead. One word, one quiet little word, but she better believe he fucking meant it.

Eyes narrowing, Rachel said, "That wasn't a request." Her voice sounded pretty calm and controlled as well, but he heard the steely resolve behind her tone. He just chose to ignore it.

Stepping forward, closing the two feet gap between them, he crossed his arms and drew himself up. Puck had always done 'menacing' well. "No fucking way."

But if he did intimidate her in any way she didn't show it and he couldn't help but be slightly impressed.

"I _refuse_ to be humiliated, Noah," she told him, eyes sparking and colour starting to pool high in her cheeks. She was really getting worked up over this. Why was it so damned sexy?

"What the fuck for? This isn't _real_ babe, so why the hell do I have to do the celibate thing?"

"_Because_," she started, crossing her arms. Fuck, what a great view of her— "I refuse to put up with the humiliation of people thinking you're cheating on me."

Frowning, Puck asked, "People? What _people_, this is just my mom!"

"Oh, please." Did she seriously just roll her eyes at him? "This is your mother we're talking about. And this is you, and _me_, supposedly dating. She's told everybody under the sun that her useless son has found a wonderful Jewish girlfriend and that we've been secretly dating for weeks. If she finds out you slept with one of your silly tarts, then what? Am I supposed to act heartbroken and emotional and declare that you're a terrible boyfriend? Your mother won't stop there – she'll flay you alive for hurting me, and then try to fix everything and get us back together. _No_, I refuse."

Arms crossed, determination written all over her face, and eyes locked with his.

Why the hell did she look so damn hot right now?

"There's no way in hell I'm going without for however long this thing has left."

"Two and a half weeks, and that's not my problem."

Oh really? That's how she was going to be, was it? He may not be a poker connoisseur, but he knew when to call someone's bluff. And he knew just the way to get under _her_ skin.

Narrowing his eyes at her, Puck said, "I'll make it your problem." Moving forward he crowded her back against the kitchen table, bracing his hands on the cool wood and effectively trapping her between his arms. The movement brought his face down closer to hers and he could _see_ the hitch in her breathing. "If you're gonna torture me with this stupid thing, then you're just gonna get it right back at ya, babe."

Stepping just that little bit closer, Puck let his hands shift over just a couple more inches so his fingers could brush against the tight fabric covering her hips, and he felt Rachel's whole body jolt at the touch.

She was silent. Gaping at him, looking like she was trying to stutter out some kind of outraged response, but silent.

"Second rule; this goes both ways, Rach. If I'm not getting any, _you're_ not getting any either."

"But ... but I ..." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "I don't sleep around like you do. I'm not that kind of girl, Noah. That won't be a problem for me."

Yeah, right. There's no way a passionate woman like her could go without for more than a few days, at most. A body like hers, she could have her pick of men. Just because he didn't hear about it didn't mean it wasn't happening. The quiet ones were always the worst.

"Like I said," he murmured, his head dipping so his lips were next to her ear. "I'll _make it_ your problem." Biting back a triumphant grin when she shivered, he said, "You know, I wondered why we didn't agree to make use of this situation."

He wanted to raise his hand to touch her, somewhere, didn't really matter where, but he was pretty sure she'd escape his hold if he did. Leaving his hands where they were, he just kept his body close to hers and his lips brushing her ear.

But it would have been easier to concentrate on making her uncomfortable if that damned flowery scent would leave him the hell alone.

"What do you reckon, babe? You and me, these next couple of weeks. We were always pretty damn good together." Letting out that low chuckle that he knew she liked, he added, "Hell, we were fuckin' explosive together."

The more he spoke, the more the idea appealed to him, and Puck seriously wondered why he hadn't thought of it straight away. It was fucking genius. Rachel was hot, he _knew_ how good she was, and if he wasn't getting any from anywhere else the least she could do was accommodate him.

He'd 'accommodate' her. Fuck yeah, he would.

* * *

xXx

* * *

Shivering at his words Rachel shook her head, denying what he was saying. But even as she did so, it made his lips brush against the shell of her ear and even that light touch made her skin tingle. She wasn't in any sort of condition to properly defend herself against him, not while he was like _this_, and silently cursed the three drinks she'd had. No matter how much she drank, her size and stature always played against her when it came to alcohol.

Rachel tried to blame her body's curious reaction to him on the fury that had been coursing through her ever since he'd grabbed her arm in the pub, but she knew the truth. She hated it, but she knew.

Her breathing was coming out in short bursts, her hands were sweaty and held firmly at her sides, and she could bet that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

And there was Noah, just standing over her with his deep voice saying all these terribly wonderful things in her ear ... and he didn't even looked affected.

Bastard.

Maybe she was only tipsy, but Rachel had always known that even one drink could impair a rational mind. Three? She might as well throw in the towel now. That was the only reason she could think of for what she was contemplating. With her traitorous body showing clear signs of enjoyment at Noah's nearness, and her useless mind unable to speak with any sort of clarity at that moment, she could only go with what her gut told her.

And her gut was telling her to fight fire with fire. Rachel could never back down from a challenge, and had always been determined to win – at _anything_. If Noah was set on making her melt at his feet, for whatever purpose, then she was sure that she wouldn't. _He_ would be the one to crumble first.

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, another followed straight after – what did she think she was doing?

But she ignored that voice in the back of her head that told her this was a ridiculous idea, and that if her interest wasn't unbearably piqued at the thought of Noah singling her out and focussing on making her ache she would know that this wasn't something she should be doing.

But damn it, in that moment it just felt oddly right.

"Like I said, Noah," she replied, shocked at how husky she sounded. Clearing her throat to try and normalise her voice again, she said, "I'm not that kind of girl. This won't be a problem for me."

There was that chuckle again. She could kick him in the shins for using it, really she could. "You can't resist. You wouldn't last a week of this."

"_You're_ the one that won't last a week," she retorted. Hearing a low growl in reply, Rachel's eyes triumphantly locked with his.

Apparently that was a bad idea. Noah moved in, pressing his lips to hers _hard_ and Rachel could only let out a tiny squeak before he took her breath away.

For the first time in seven years she was kissing Noah Puckerman, and it was everything that she remembered and more. His lips were familiar, but the way he used them did things to her insides that she was embarrassed to admit to. They sipped, they tugged, they pressed and sought hers over and over again until she was breathless and panting, and still he continued. Feeling as if she was going to melt against the table at any moment, Rachel didn't know if she needed him to stop or keep going.

And that was just his lips! His hands still grazed against her hips on the table, but besides that they weren't touching anywhere else. He hadn't even deepened that kiss further, not like she thought he would. Odd, she was actually _disappointed_, of all things. Tentatively she parted her lips further, and nipped gently at his bottom lip. As teenagers and then young adults, that had never failed to make him give her more.

Apparently it still worked.

With a groan, Noah reached up with one hand to cup her cheek, tilting her head further back as his tongue swept past her lips. That first brush elicited soft sounds from both of them, and the kiss became more aggressive, their tongues duelling in an unspoken battle. Rachel's whole body felt warm, too warm, and the touch of his lips and tongue made her burn up. His hand had moved away from her cheek, tracing a line across her jar before his fingers dragged down against her neck and collarbone, leaving a blazing trail of fiery skin.

"Noah ..." His name was supposed to be a protest, one she didn't want to make but knew she needed to. But with how husky her voice still sounded it became more of a whimper, like she was begging him for more, not less.

"You're so fuckin' hot," he mumbled, breaking away from her slightly so his lips could follow the path his fingers had just made. "So soft ... so damn sexy ..."

His words were beautiful and Rachel didn't even bother to try and open her eyes as his tongue lapped at the hollow of her neck. She felt heavy, and now that she was free to breathe properly the rest of her senses started returning to her. Her hands were gripping the table so tightly that her knuckles had no doubt turned white, but they were barely keeping her upright. Her hips at some point had shifted and were now pressing intimately to his, and she became instantly aware of the fact that he was enjoying this as much as she was.

But when she paid attention enough to feel his hand graze down her shoulder and far too close to the side of her breast, Rachel said his name again. "Noah ... no, Noah wait ..."

The noise he made was deep, almost feral. He didn't want her to stop him. "Come on, Rach. Just say the word, and—"

"No, stop." Brushing his hands away from her body with a strength she didn't think she possessed in that moment, Rachel pulled herself away from him, sliding out from between him and the dining table. She couldn't imagine what she looked like right now, flushed and dazed and far too hot, but from the way Noah was looking at her she guessed he liked what he saw.

_Oy vey_.

"We should stop. And you should go." His eyes, which had been dark and smouldering a moment before, now snapped up to meet hers, and a different kind of fire burned there. He didn't like her pulling away at all.

"What the fuck for?"

"I ... I'm just ... Noah, you have to go." She darted around the kitchen table, putting some distance between them. He allowed her to go for a moment and then started stalking after her.

"You're running away," he breathed, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Shrugging, she continued to circle around the table. Rachel hated shrugging, it meant nothing and was a terribly lazy form of communication, but with how scattered her thoughts were it was the best she could do. She felt ridiculous but needed to keep her distance. Stupid, stupid. Even in her younger days she always had a weakness for him, and apparently she hadn't outgrown it.

"This isn't over," he promised her. "We still need to … talk."

"Yes, but … some other time. Noah, just go."

With one last look, he turned around and walked out of her house.

Hearing the door close behind him, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into one of her dining chairs.

She felt as if she should be scared about what just happened. This is how worked up she was now, and he had only kissed her, barely touched her. She was in a lot of trouble. So why was she now looking forward to this ridiculous charade of theirs?

* * *

xXx

* * *

As soon as the door shut, Puck pressed his forehead against the wood and groaned loudly. _What the hell was that?_ It wasn't like he'd never had Rachel Berry before, this wasn't anything new. But it was. They weren't fumbling teenagers or cocky twenty-one year olds anymore. They had matured – slightly – and grown into themselves, and apparently that meant that Puck had been content to just kiss her until they were both breathless and burning up because he couldn't believe how fucking _good_ she tasted.

He hadn't thought to do anything else, hadn't been able to get his mind away from those juicy lips and that talented tongue and ... _Shit_.

Slowing walking down the steps of the porch and back to his car, Puck rethought everything that happened before that kiss.

This pretending to date Rachel thing was turning out to be more interesting than he would have thought possible.

* * *

xXx

* * *

[ _We still need to tlk_ ]

Sighing, Rachel rubbed a hand wearily against her brow and contemplated her reply. In the light of day, after a rigorous class with a small group of sixteen year olds, she felt so ashamed of her behaviour the previous evening. She _had_ been flirting with Finn, she knew that now, but truth be told she had never been able to resist either of the men she had gone to the pub to meet. Finn was her first love and she'd never forget their tumultuous high school relationships. Even now sometimes she looked back and wondered just how they had gotten so far off track and why after all her hard work did they still not work out.

Then when her thoughts turned to Noah and how intertwined their history was with her and Finn's, it gave her a bit of a headache.

But she still couldn't believe the things she had told him when they had gotten back to her house. Unlike her younger self, Rachel now tried to avoid confrontation where possible and was appalled at what she had said. Then again, there had always been something about Noah that made her always stay honest with him. Apparently when she had one too many drinks in her system, that condition only worsened.

They did need to talk, she knew that. But it was too soon. She'd stayed awake half the night thinking about the way he had tasted and the way he had felt, and her mind returned over and over to marvelling at how much he seemed to want her. _Her_. Which was ludicrous. Rachel reminded herself that the only reason he'd reacted as he had was because she had tried to deny him something, and that was the surest way to make Noah Puckerman want that thing even more.

[ _Then talk._ ]

Texting would be good and safe. Texting meant she wouldn't need to be near him again until the dinner with their families, and it also meant she wouldn't have to see that irritating smug smile on his lips.

[ _Im not doin this. Meet me for coffee or sumthin_ ]

[ _I'm working._ ]

[ _Derr. Afta work_ ]

Wondering if button mashing was an acceptable way of responding – it would certainly convey her frustration with him – she waved goodbye to a few more dance students and check her watch. There was one more double-hour class starting at two, but then she would be free for the afternoon. Sighing, Rachel smiled at another mother and daughter pair that called out their farewells to her on their way past as she considered her answer.

[ _Fine._ ]

She would regret this, she knew she would regret this. It was far too soon.

[ _Lookin forward to it. See ya soon babe_]

"Don't make me regret this, Noah," she muttered, pushing her phone aside and sliding her swivel chair over to access the studio's records. "Please don't make me regret all this."


	8. Chapter 8

Tapping her foot nervously against the concrete of the front drive, Rachel waited by her car for Noah to finish for the day. She smiled brightly and waved at Burt when he passed by a few times, and even had a small chat with him when he stopped to speak with her. He seemed to understand that there was something going on between her and Noah – no doubt his son-in-law had something to do with that – so he didn't question her being there, just mentioned that 'the young jackass will be out soon', which made her laugh.

"Follow behind me," was all Noah said when he eventually walked out the door a few minutes later.

Distracted by how inexplicably attractive he looked in his stained jeans and shirt with a smudge of grease against his cheek, Rachel merely uttered an embarrassingly inarticulate, "Huh?"

Grinning, he repeated, "Follow behind me. I know this great place that does the best coffee in town."

Honestly, she should have known better. There were only two coffee shops in Lima and one of them was closed after normal office hours, so she really ought to have picked up on his ruse right away. But it wasn't until she turned onto his street behind him that Rachel's mind finally clicked into gear and she rolled her eyes at his line. 'Best coffee in town', indeed.

Pulling into the drive after him and hopping out of her car, Rachel rolled her eyes at the smug expression she could see on his face. "Your coffee-making skills better be phenomenal now or I'm walking straight back out your door."

"I swear babe, once you get a taste of my coffee you'll never get enough of it."

"Oh please," she said, brushing past him and walking straight up the driveway to his door. "I've tried your coffee before and I wasn't that impressed."

Almost immediately she had to bite her lip against taking back her own words. Why did she say that? Rachel knew very well that what she had said was not only a euphemism but also a challenge, one that she doubted Noah would let go. Stupid, stupid.

So she stood nervously next to the door, waiting for whatever rejoinder he would send her way. Sneaking a glance at him as he stepped up next to her and stuck his key into the lock, Rachel kept her face blank when she caught his eye.

Stepping inside when he opened the door without saying anything, she breathed a sigh of relief and thought that maybe he would actually let that one slide. Instead, Rachel felt his hands slide around her waist just after he shut the door behind them.

"I thought I'd better get you inside the house before showing you just how good my coffee is," he murmured against her ear. "Don't wanna make the neighbours jealous."

"Noah," she chided, tugging her body away from his grasp and briskly walking through his house to the lounge room.

"What?" He said laughingly, following closely behind her.

Placing her handbag on his dining table, ignoring the way the butterflies in her stomach stupidly took flight at just the sight of a single piece of furniture, Rachel turned back to face him with a hand on her hip. "Has your mother said anything to you about us since Temple?"

Quirking an eyebrow at her, Noah rested a hip against the kitchen counter and smirked. "Change the subject then. But yeah, she has. She's called every day to ask how I am, how you are and how you and I are. I've just told her to back the fuck off until after the dinner at least."

She was surprised at that and apparently it must have showed.

"I figured avoiding as many questions as possible would make things easier."

That actually made a lot of sense. Opening her mouth to speak, Rachel cut herself off and looked again at what he was wearing. "Did you need to have a shower first or something? Get changed, maybe?"

"Why? Thinking of joining me?"

Copying a move he'd used on her numerous times, Rachel raised a single brow at him and folded her arms. "I thought you invited me over to talk about this whole situation. You know the dating thing we're apparently doing?"

Pushing away from the counter and walking slowly toward her, Noah said slyly, "We could talk later."

Frowning at him, ignoring the way those butterflies again fluttered at his words, Rachel replied, "No, Noah, that's not how this is going to work."

"Just 'cause it's not how you want it to work, doesn't mean it's not gonna happen." Reaching out, he brushed a hand against her arm, trailing his fingers down against her skin and then resting them on her hip. "You can't stop me from trying."

"I can, I can make it one of our rules." Even that brief touch made it that much more difficult to speak, as all she could remember was the last time he had his hands on her in this exact spot and almost in this exact position. She knew this, meeting him that afternoon so soon after being in his embrace the previous evening, would be a bad idea.

Smiling lazily at her, Noah tilted his head and said, "Really, Rach? You think you'll be so terrible at resisting me that you'd actually make a _rule_ against me hitting on you?"

The nerve! He was using her words against her, that wasn't what she meant at all. "I can resist you!"

"Sure." He sounded far too damn smug.

"I can, don't think I can't," Rachel insisted, poking him hard in the chest as she spoke.

This time it was Noah who quirked a brow at her as he asked, "Who're you trying to convince, babe?"

"I fend off your advances all the time. This'll be like a walk in the park."

"Seriously? I've never been trying before. You honestly think if I actually put the moves on you that you won't end up in my bed at some point?"

That was a sobering thought. The confidence in his eyes made her believe him as well; he wasn't just bragging or talking himself up. Even she had to admit that the way he had treated her had always been more friendly than flirting. Of course he flirted with her as well and she, sometimes inadvertently, responded. But he'd never seriously _pursued_ her at all since that Glee party when they had barely turned twenty-one, and now he was implying that he would. That he wanted to. And if yesterday was any indication, she would have a hard time avoiding – or resisting – him. Damn it.

"We're not supposed to be talking about this," she said instead of replying, moving away from him and back into the kitchen.

"Seems pretty important," Noah retorted, turning on the spot and watching as she moved about.

Letting out an inelegant snort, Rachel started browsing through his cupboards to find a glass to pour a cold water. "To you maybe."

"You think it's important, babe. Admit it."

"I think it's important to point out that it's never going to happen and move on to _more _important things. Like the dinner we're supposed to have with your mother and my fathers in two days?"

Glancing over at him as she lifted a glass down from a cupboard above the sink, she saw the brief flash of annoyance crossing his face. She couldn't tell if it was caused by her refusal to succumb to him or her words themselves.

Walking around the island, Noah leaned casually against the arched doorway to the kitchen. "Can't we talk about that tomorrow? I thought we were talking about the relationship thing. About us."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel took a long sip of water, breathing a soft sigh at the cold feeling slipping down the back of her throat. "No, I've decided there's nothing to talk about. We already agreed; no sleeping around or seeing other people for the next two weeks. That's all there is to it. All we have to do until then is keep up appearances. Let people see us, let your mother see us, then …" Gesturing aimlessly with her free hand, Rachel finished with, "Then we break up."

"Just like that?" Noah asked, pushing away from the wall and slowly moving toward her.

Finishing the last mouthful of water, Rachel turned to wash the glass before standing it in the sink. "Just like that."

"Hmm."

His deep rumble of a reply came from far too close behind her. Whirling around, she let out a soft gasp when she found him standing directly in front of her. Before she could protest or even move from her spot he had stepped forward and moulded his lips to hers. A garbled mumble left her lips, a very unsexy sound, and Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. He wasn't supposed to be kissing her again! He wasn't supposed to be using his lips like that, or his tongue like _that_, and he certainly wasn't supposed to be holding her hips tightly as he reminded her of just how good he'd tasted the evening before.

But he was and she couldn't seem to stop him.

Why did he have to feel so damn good?

"You were saying?" Noah murmured eventually, pulling his lips away from her by only a few inches. In the close proximity she could see how dark his eyes were, and how long his eyelashes were, and could see that those lips of his looked as soft as they felt.

"I …" she started, unable to drag her gaze away from his face. "Noah, I …"

"Don't remember?" Sometimes she detested that smirk of his.

"You … weren't you going to make me a coffee?"

There, she'd managed to find her wits again, regardless of the fact that she'd already forgotten that she'd had a whole glass of water not a few moments ago. A flash of surprise crossed his features, but soon he was nodding slowly and stepping away from her toward the pantry at his back. "Black with two?"

Taking the opportunity his turned back presented to bring her breathing back under control, Rachel murmured a soft agreement, a little stunned that he still remembered.

She could barely remember anything except the way his lips felt at that moment.

Still using the counter for support, Rachel cast her mind back over the last few days, _before_ everything that happened between the two of them since yesterday afternoon, and her mind snagged on one thought. This fake relationship of theirs was already progressing the same as their other previous non-relationships had. Frowning at Noah's back as he made their coffees, she considered the flirting, the useless arguing and the hesitancy from both of them to discuss what was really happening, in favour of getting into her pants on Noah's part or dismissing the subject as undue and unnecessary stress for the two of them on hers.

"Noah?" Rachel asked hesitantly, watching as he turned with two mugs in his hands. "We've been great these past few years. Since our younger years together I mean." Wetting her dry lips as she took her coffee from him, she asked, "Why did that suddenly change?"

"Change?"

"You know … with the arguing and the animosity we've been feeling for each other over the last few days. It all started when this charade started." Raising the mug to her lips, she watched and waited as he thought that over.

Frowning slightly as he took a sip, Noah shrugged. "The relationship thing I guess? I don't think we were ever supposed to be a real couple, Rach." Grinning, he added, "Hell, I don't think _I'm_ ever supposed to be part of a couple. So I reckon us throwing ourselves together like this is just screwing with the balance we had going on, creating a disturbance in the force." There was a twinkle in his eye even as he completely deadpanned the last few words.

Almost choking on her coffee as she spluttered out a bark of laughter, Rachel had to put her mug down before she dropped it, smiling gratefully through her tears when Noah patted her soundly on the back. "Don't joke while I'm drinking coffee," she rasped, much to his amusement. "And don't laugh while I'm choking!"

"Sorry babe," Noah replied, chuckling still. Placing his mug down next to hers he stepped in close, using both his hands on her back to try and sooth her. "Feel better?" He murmured as he slowly began to dig his fingers into her skin.

"You're seriously using this as another opportunity to hit on me?" She asked him sceptically, trying not to press back against his hands as he found a knot in her back that she hadn't even realised was there.

Smirking down at her again, Noah just shrugged and said, "I'll take what I can get." His hands shifted lower, closer and closer to her waist and the top of her pants, and he leaned in to murmur against her ear, "Remember what I said yesterday babe? I'm gonna torture you with this thing."

Biting her lip when his fingers delved beneath the hem of her shirt, Rachel said, "But this isn't exactly torturous." _And not quite at the same intensity as the day before_.

She could practically feel his smirk broadening as he replied, "That's the point."

* * *

Moving his hands in circles against her back, working the muscles there and enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers, Puck listened intently as her breath hitched at his words and her body tensed slightly. He'd had a long, hard think about everything that was going on between the two of them, _especially _because of what happened yesterday, and had come to a pretty easy conclusion.

He wanted Rachel Berry in his bed. Fuck it, he wanted her anywhere and any way he could get her, but ultimately he wanted that to last for the next two-and-whatever weeks they had left to pull off this charade. Now, Puck knew he wasn't exactly the kind of guy to woo a woman. Sure, he'd done it in the past but he didn't have the patience for that kind of thing – and if he only had two weeks with Rach, then he had to get his ass into gear quick-smart. But Rachel was clearly skittish of him and she unfortunately knew him well enough for his usual moves to be annoyingly predictable.

But he knew something she didn't; he knew she enjoyed this. She'd act like she didn't, or try and explain away her reaction in that over-active head of hers, but he knew she'd give into him. She _always_ gave into him.

As he kneaded one knot at her lower back she left out the softest moan of satisfaction that sent a jolt of pleasure straight through his body. He'd do the 'going slow' thing for a while, but if he didn't have her under him soon then this was gonna be as torturous as he'd predicted yesterday.

Besides, if they were gonna convince his mom they were really together, they had to do it right. That woman was like a hawk; she'd notice instantly if something was off, and Puck not sleeping with the girl he was supposedly dating? That would tip her off straight away.

When Rachel lifted her head, her lips parted slightly and her eyes closed in pleasure, Puck decided he'd been going slowly for just long enough. Pressing her body back against the kitchen counter, bracing her hips so she didn't knock the hard marble, Puck lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and sweeping his tongue in as she gasped in surprise.

Yesterday he had been content to kiss her, but now that he'd already felt her soft skin beneath his hands, he needed more.

Rachel was hesitant at first, her hands raised to his chest and just grazing his shirt as if she was about to push him away, but when Puck gripped her hips tightly, kneading the soft flesh beneath his hands, she let out another soft sound and began to kiss him back.

_Damn_ _this girl could kiss._

Not wanting to be distracted by those lips of hers like he had yesterday, Puck broke away. Running his tongue against her jaw and nipping light at the skin, he licked a path up to her ear, letting out a hot breath when Rachel gasped and pressed her hips against his because he'd grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

"Noah," she whispered, almost whined, when he speared a hand though her hair and tightened his hold slightly, thankful that she'd taken it out of the usual tight bun after she'd finished at the studio. Dropping to her neck and collarbone, Puck bit a little too roughly at her skin, making Rachel gasp and shudder in his arms. "_Noah_," she said again, a little more insistently.

"What, baby?" he murmured, soothing her skin with broad strokes of his tongue.

"I'm … _oh_ God … I'm not sleeping with you here."

It took him a few moments for her words to really register, but when they did he reached down again to grip her hips, lifting her onto the kitchen counter. "Who said anything about sleeping?" He murmured, locking eyes with her until she looked away. Her cheeks flushed a brighter pink and he wondered for just a moment if she was going to give into him already.

He was actually a little disappointed. Not because she wanted to, because _hello_, but because he thought she'd hold out a little longer than that. He'd been looking forward to wearing her down.

Stepping between her legs, Puck's hands slid up her thighs until he cradled her ass. Scooting her that little bit closer to the edge so she was pressed against his body, he leaned in a pressed light, teasing kisses to her lips, nipping at them slightly.

"Noah," Rachel breathed, closing her eyes but tilting her head away from him. "I didn't mean … I don't want … We're not going to do _that _either."

"You sure, babe?" He asked, sliding one hand back to her thigh, his thumb brushing the inside of her leg. He never realised just how much he loved how often she wore skirts until she _didn't_. But the fabric of her dance pants was microscopically thin, and it felt like he was brushing against her skin as he touched her.

It must feel the same for her if she way she twitched in his arms as he stroked her thigh was any indication.

_Hmm_.

Leaning in to distract her with his lips and tongue once more, Puck moved both hands to her thighs, stroking and kneading his way higher as higher up her leg until he could feel the elastic of her panties under his fingertips. Pulling back from her lips just far enough for her to realise what he was doing, he said, "'Cause you say no, but I reckon your body wants to say _yes_."

With just one finger he traced the line of her panties down, down, down …

"Noah!" She gasped, hurriedly reaching to grab his hand, stilling his movements.

Biting his lip, Puck let out a muffled groan of protest. He was _right there_. An inch to the left and he'd be exactly where he wanted to be, where _she _wanted him to be. "Come on, Rach," he said softly, nuzzling his nose against her neck, feeling her jumping pulse with his tongue. "I could make you feel so good, baby, you know I could." Raising his lips to her ear, he pressed his luck just a little further and whispered hotly, "I could lay you out on this table right now."

Hearing her moan in his ear, Puck fought down a triumphant smile.

* * *

She'd never felt so disconnected from her mind before. It was like Noah had snuck up on her, taking her by surprise and leaving her defences against him in tatters. Granted she didn't have much experience in this area, but it felt like every time he had seduced her in the past he had been confident and _very _forward.

Not to say he wasn't confident now. But …

Letting out a soft huff of frustration, Rachel shook her head, trying to clear her scattered thoughts. She wasn't making any sense! And now really wasn't the time to be distracted from what was actually happening around her, not when Noah's hand was … was …

Letting out another sharp gasp as his fingers brushed against her, Rachel grabbed his hand firmly, determined this time not to let it go, and stared him straight in the eye.

But _oh god_ his eyes looked beautiful, heavy-lidded and dark, watching her.

_No, Rachel,_ she told herself, biting her tongue to try and wake herself up. _Focus._

"Noah, step back. Right now." At the surprised look on his face, she added a slightly softer, "Please."

His expression was wary and for a long moment it looked as though he would refuse. But then he sighed heavily, taking both hands of her body as he stepped out from between her legs.

Finally she felt able to breath. Taking a long, ragged breath and shifting slightly further back on the counter, Rachel raised a shaky hand to her hair, brushing the strands aside and frowning at the few knots she found caused by Noah's hands.

All the while he just stood there, his chest moving with each deep breath he took, but otherwise he didn't move. Noah simply watched her, waiting for her reaction, waiting for her to do or say something.

But Rachel didn't know what to say, and she certainly didn't know what to do. Her body felt overheated and the fragmented thoughts in her mind practically screamed to have Noah standing between her thighs once more. Even the saner part of her rationalised that he did indeed have a very good argument. Why couldn't they indulge themselves while they played out this charade? Who would ever know the difference? It wasn't like she would just be sleeping around – they were technically dating after all.

"You're doing it again," Noah murmured, startling her from her thoughts.

"What?"

A lazy smirk crossed his face as he replied. "You're thinking too much. Stop it. It's just sex, Rach."

And therein was her problem. Rachel wasn't a 'just sex' kind of girl. She'd never even had a one-night stand. Commitment and stability were very important for her, which was exactly why any relationship between them in the past had never worked.

But this was her chance. She had been given a rare opportunity to explore a no strings attached relationship with a man that she knew could take very good care of that aspect of her life, and no one would think any less of her for it because they would have no idea.

Her eyes darted up to meet Noah's, and Rachel knew she had to leave. This was a dangerous line of thought to engage in while the object of her desire – yes, she supposed she couldn't deny that irritating fact right then – was standing directly in front of her. If she was going to consider this proposal, seriously consider it, she couldn't let him be anywhere near her where he might sway her judgement.

As if reading her thoughts, Noah cocked his head to the side as he looked at her. "You're about to run away again, aren't you?"

Clearing her throat, Rachel shook her head. "I'm not running." At his pointed look, she insisted, "I'm _not_. I just have a lot to think about right now, Noah." Sliding off his kitchen counter and straightening her clothes slightly, she looked up at him with a small smile. "Besides, I have a family dinner with your mother and my fathers to prepare for."

Barking out a short laugh, Noah nodded and walked through to the dining table once more, collecting her things for her. "Let me know if you need me to do anything, alright?"

"Two days, seven-pm. But please try to be there early, I'd hate to face your mother alone."

Again he laughed, and walked her slowly to his front door. Reaching out to still her hand as she tried to turn the handle, he said her name quietly, waiting for her to look up at him once more. "Don't think for too long."

Biting her lip, Rachel nodded, stretching up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Even that small thing sent the butterflies in her stomach flying.

Ducking outside she walked over to put her things on the passenger seat before walking around to the driver's side door. Opening it and sliding into her seat, she took a moment to look up at the man standing in his doorway. Thinking again of everything that had just happened, and everything that she knew he could deliver, Rachel squeezed her eyes shut against the images as she started her car.

No matter what Noah said, she had a lot to think about.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**_ Hmm, yes ... the rating may need to go up on this one soon._


	9. Chapter 9

Tugging on the brightly coloured mitt, Rachel was halfway to opening the oven door to check on the cannelloni she was baking when a knock at the door echoed through the house.

Eyes darting up to the clock, Rachel felt her heart rate increase even further. She hoped it wasn't Mrs Puckerman already. She loved the woman – dearly – but she couldn't handle being alone with her right now and answering _questions_.

Why had she agreed to this? Had Noah maybe slipped something into her drink that day at temple when she'd blithely suggested they all 'catch up for dinner'? Noah's mother and sister were enough to contend with, let alone her fathers. Actually, she wasn't even worried about her Daddy, Daniel, because even in the company of friends and family he usually kept quiet, simply listening to what was happening around him and only offering his opinion when it was necessary. Her Dad, Mark, on the other hand? She knew he could give Deborah Puckerman a run for her money, and Rachel rarely enjoyed having them in the same room together when the topic of relationships and her previous lack thereof was mentioned.

But there was also the terrifying fact that this was the first time, ever, that she'd had to cook for a boyfriend's family before – and Noah wasn't even really her boyfriend! Unfortunately that only seemed to heighten her nerves as she worried unnecessarily if the food would be up to Deborah Puckerman's standard, and whether or not she would be able to finish the evening without his family and hers hating her for lying to them.

She'd always known dating Noah Puckerman would be a test of her sanity.

Worrying her lip as she went, Rachel straightened her outfit one last time, checked her reflection in the mirror in the front entry, and took a deep breath as she pulled open the door – and promptly let that breath out again in a relieved rush.

"Oh, it's only you," she muttered, turning and leaving the door open so Noah could let himself in.

"_Only_ me?" She could hear the incredulous tone in his voice as he swung the door closed behind him. "Babe, we gotta work on your greetings. No one's gonna believe we're dating if you're so cold to me."

Letting out a very unladylike snort as she returned to the kitchen and walked straight over to the oven, Rachel opened the door and peered in. Images flickered through her mind of his lips and hands, of him lifting her onto his kitchen counter, and of the hot desire that had raced through her body even now as she thought about it all. "My reactions to you are anything but _cold_," she muttered to herself.

"Sorry, what? I didn't quite catch that."

Jumping, not realising that he had moved to stand directly across the kitchen island from her, she just shook her head, "Nothing." Running a hand through her hair, she shut the oven door again to let the cannelloni bake for a little while longer and looked around the kitchen at what else needed doing. "Here, take these and set the table. Your mother's going to be here at any minute." Ignoring the smirk that played across his lips – maybe he wasn't as hard of hearing as he pretended to be, the wretch – she collected the cutlery to pass to him and acted as if she didn't enjoy the way Noah's hand curved around hers as he took them from her.

From her vantage point in the kitchen, she watched as he moved from chair to chair, setting the knives and forks down before grabbing the salt and pepper shakers she handed him to place in the middle of the table. Noah actually looked decent. Why she was surprised, she didn't know, but she could see that he had put in a little extra effort that evening to make himself presentable.

Of course, the plain grey shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and the dark wash jeans that hugged all the right curves were always going to look great on a body like that. Recalling the way her eyes had lingered on him the other day when he was greasy and dirty from work, Rachel wondered if it was even possible for him to look terrible; the damned man could probably make rags and a paper bag look good.

"So," Noah said casually, bringing her out of her thoughts and focussing on the here and now once more. Grating some cheese as he stepped into the kitchen with her, Rachel didn't turn to face him as he started talking. "You reckon you're ready for this?"

Rolling her eyes, she pointed out, "I've survived so far. I think I can manage a simple dinner, Noah." All bravado, but he didn't need to know that.

The sound of his typically low chuckle had Rachel smiling in response, and her gaze flicked up to meet his momentarily. "I s'pose," he murmured, smiling lazily at her. But that smile – one that indicated clearly where his thoughts had turned – made her feel skittish and unsure of herself once more. She hated this feeling. This relationship, or non-relationship, should not be this difficult to deal with.

She'd had time away from Noah, a day and a half to think over his very tempting suggestion, and yet she still couldn't decide either way. Rachel was more than grateful that Noah hadn't bothered her since she'd last seen him at his house, surprised but pleased that he hadn't tried to force her into deciding quickly without thinking everything through. Not that there was really much to think about at all, but he at least knew her well enough to realise she did need a little time.

Time she was quickly running out of. That thought made her brief smile fade, as did his when he saw her reaction. "Rach …" he said slowly, taking a step toward her.

Dropping the grater and the block of cheese with a clatter, she turned to fetch a few glasses out of the top cupboard in the corner. She didn't need to get glasses, and hadn't even intended to set them out unless anyone wanted a drink, but it gave her an excuse to move away from him and _that_ subject. She was on edge enough as it was without his nearness clouding her judgement any more and tricking her into making a rash decision.

But she had forgotten that she had moved her little stool into the bedroom to pull some things down from the top of her wardrobe yesterday, and couldn't quite reach the glasses on the top shelf without it. Not wanting to look totally dense for her actions, Rachel stood on her tiptoes and stretched high for the top shelf, her fingers brushing against the cool glasses but unable to get any sort of grip on them. She probably looked even more ridiculous now, but that's exactly what happens when you make hasty decisions without thinking things through.

That's also what happens because she simply can't think while that man is around.

"Here," Rachel heard him murmur before he stepped up behind her and reached over her head. "Let me get 'em." As he stretched above her, the movement brought his body right up against the back of hers and Rachel held her breath, trying hard not to enjoy the way he pressed against her. "How many?" He asked mildly, and she stuttered out 'five'.

Trapped in the corner, she couldn't move far until he stepped away from her, but he was taking his sweet time. Turning on the spot, intending to step around him and back to the chopping board on the other side of the kitchen, Rachel hadn't counted on Noah staying put when he brought the glasses down.

They were inches apart, thighs touching, when her eyes trailed upward from his jaw line to meet his gaze. Heat skittered through her when their eyes locked, and she drew in a sharp breath as Noah's gaze dropped to her lips. Slowly, he placed the glasses down somewhere behind her, his hands gripping the bench top and caging her in.

Unlike what happened only moments before, unlike every other time when he had touched her, Rachel didn't immediately feel the need to bolt. Instead she leaned back into the counter and continued to meet his gaze, suddenly tired of running and denying _this_. The need to give in to him.

That's how Deborah Puckerman found them as she waltzed in through the unlocked door.

* * *

She looked good. Damn good. Especially with her tight little dancer's ass wrapped in those black pants as she stretched up to get some glasses that she was clearly never going to be able to reach.

Not that he'd minded when the action made her tank top slide up, revealing that same patch of skin he'd had beneath his hands only two days before.

This back and forth, the almost-but-not-quite surrender, was driving him just a little mad. He couldn't deny that he'd have done the same if this was any other woman or any other situation, but Puck could hardly ignore the fact that he'd rarely felt this consuming need to just touch a woman before. Stepping forward, crowding her against the corner of the counter, he did the 'gentlemanly' thing and collected the glasses for her. And if his body pressed close against hers as he did so? Well, that just couldn't be helped.

No really, it couldn't be helped. Puck wouldn't have been able to keep himself away from her if he tried.

He just hadn't counted on how good it would feel when she dropped back down to her feet, making her body slide against his. The only problem was that he didn't know if she was so tense because she liked his closeness, or hated it.

The soft scent of flowers wafted around him as he stood there.

Then when she turned, he was about ready to drop the glasses and lift her up onto the counter, more than happy to continue where he'd left off the other day. Certain she was going to push him away and walk off at any moment, he moved slowly to place the glasses down and shift that little bit closer, hands resting either side of Rachel's body as he resisted the urge to kiss her. He wanted this to be her decision for once.

Watching as something in her eyes changed, Puck felt his pulse begin to race as she shifted, boldly meeting his gaze and _not_ stopping this.

But fate intervened. Or rather, his mother did. Damn that woman.

"Oh goodness, you two, there's plenty of time to do that when I'm gone. Noah, leave the poor girl alone and come give me a hug."

Unable to help the annoyed growl that bubbled up at her words, Puck looked down again at Rachel, who laughed tentatively at their situation. His gaze locked with hers for a moment longer, trying to convey something through his eyes alone; they weren't done here.

Her eyes widened and she frowned slightly just as he turned to greet his mother. "You have the worst timing, seriously woman," he said as he rounded the counter and wrapped an arm around the older woman's shoulder gently.

"Well, it _is_six-thirty," Deborah Puckerman pointed out, placing her handbag on the counter beside where Rachel's sat and smiling up at her son. "And unlike some people, I always arrive when I say I will." The last was directed at him. Yeah, he got that.

Rachel, who had apparently collected herself again after that little encounter, laughed politely and said, "Don't mind Noah, he's just—"

"Being himself, yes I know dear. You don't have to explain anything to me. Now, what is that delightful smell?"

As the women started chatting about the food – which did smell awesome – Noah picked up the glasses again with a wink in Rachel's direction and moved to place them on the dining table. "Hey, Ma," he called, looking askew at the number of places. "Where's Squirt?"

Looking over at him, his mother blinked and then said, "Oh, I already called ahead to let Rachel know. It's just me tonight; Sarah had some sort of sleepover party with her friends." Facing Rachel, she smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you early than today, honey. It was all very last minute."

But Rachel just smiled back and said, "No, that's not a problem. That just means I'll have some leftovers for the next few days."

"Oh, you'll be able to give them to Noah to take to work!" Deborah said brightly, moving to sit down at one end of the dining table. "He never seems to feed himself properly, all that take away rubbish and pies and hot dogs and other pollution for his body." Wrinkling her nose at the thought, Mrs Puckerman added, "But now I know that at least with you around he'll finally be made to eat better."

Raising an eyebrow at his mother, he walked away to join his 'girlfriend' again in the kitchen. Call it safety in numbers, but he felt better being closer to her while this whole charade was in place. "Right, Ma," he muttered, moving to the oven when Rachel indicated that whatever she had baking was ready to be taken out. "Speaking of eating better, grub's up."

"Are your fathers far away, Rachel?"

Puck glanced up at the clock too as Rachel replied, "They should be just—"

_"Ahoy there, anyone home?"_

"—around the corner." Flashing a smile at both of them, the brunette walked off to greet her fathers.

Leaving Puck alone with his mother.

Knowing exactly what to expect as soon as he turned around, Puck found he still couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes as his mother stared up at him, smiling smugly and settling back in her seat. "The two of you look so good together, Noah. So comfortable with each other. And _you _look very comfortable in her house. But then I suppose you have spent a fair amount of time here lately."

Gritting his teeth, Puck put the baking dish on the protected counter top and pulled over the plates Rachel already had out. He felt a little bit bad then, hearing his mother make assumptions about their 'relationship', and wondered seriously how they were going to make it through this night. At least that day at Temple there had been too any other people to contend with for his Mother or Rachel's fathers to really see what was going on between them, and that night out with Finn … well, his supposed 'jealous' outburst probably cemented their relationship in the guy's mind. But tonight they were in a kinda off one-on-one with the three people that probably knew them best. He felt as if this could only go badly.

But they survived.

_They actually survived._

Rachel's flare for the dramatic might be rubbing off on him a little, but he couldn't help but think of it that way. He'd been sure her fathers would scrutinize him the entire time, watching how he acted and noting what he said, waiting for him to slip up and act like the usual asshole they expected him to be; one that probably wasn't fit for their precious daughter. But he wasn't stupid, he didn't slurp his food and hardly ever swore, and okay, yeah it had taken a nudge from Rachel to shut his mouth but even he had realised that telling the story of how he and Finn had slashed Vocal Adrenaline's tyres way back in high school probably _wasn't_ going to impress them.

And Rachel was just … he never really considered just how close she was with his mother before, but this dinner thing shined a whole new light on their relationship. The two women sat and gossiped about the harpies at Temple and how Sarah was performing in her classes, and the rest of the stuff pretty much went right over his head. But then Rachel would mention something and her eyes would dart to his as she smiled warmly, or she'd turn to him saying 'Noah, do you remember when …?' and would lightly place her hand on his arm as she spoke, and even he had a hard time remembering she was faking it.

Seriously, the woman had this girlfriend stuff down pat. Finn was an idiot for not locking that shit down years ago.

In fact she was doing such a good job, Puck figured he'd better play his part in making this whole thing even more convincing. From where his mother was seated, with the two of them at her right and Rachel's fathers sitting opposite them, she could easily see when Puck reached out to run his hand over Rachel's leg, letting it rest just above her knee. Rachel, of course, jumped at the touch and shook her head slightly in his direction before grabbing his wrist and moving it away from her.

So he did it again.

And again, she shot a small frown at him before pushing his hand away.

All the while Deborah Puckerman talked on, but her amused smile and the light twinkle in her eye showed that she saw exactly what was happening.

Not liking this pushing away crap, Puck stretched his arm up and over the back of Rachel's chair, his hand curving against her shoulder and his fingers brushing against the skin of her arm. This time when she looked over at him, he smiled broadly and leaned in to skim his lips against her cheek.

He'd only recently rediscovered how much he enjoyed the way her breathing stuttered whenever he got too close to her, just like it did now.

"Noah," Rachel hissed at him, frowning _and_ shaking her head this time, and apparently her actions were amusing because both his mother and Mark Berry started laughing.

"Rachel, dear, don't fret. I don't mind the little displays of affection. In truth, it's good to see." Smiling fondly at the two of them, his mother wiped her hands on her napkin and pushed her chair out. "Excuse me for a moment, I'm just going to visit the little girl's room."

"It's just down the hall," Rachel said quickly, motioning vaguely in that direction.

Grinning to himself, Puck left his arm where it was as Rachel turned back to speak with her fathers.

Eventually the night wound down and the five of them were sitting back with their empty plates in front of them, chatting amiably over a few glasses of wine.

Or rather, Rachel chatted. Puck sat back in his chair with his arm still resting casually over her shoulders, listening to her voice and admiring the curve of her neck as she glanced at his mother. His mind was about to take a turn, imagining the sounds she would make if he pressed his lips to her skin _right there_, when the daddies Berry announced they had to leave.

"It was a wonderful dinner, baby girl," Dan Berry said, stepping around the table and smiling proudly down at his daughter. "We should do this more often!"

"Daddy," Rachel said with a laugh, brushing away Puck's arm so she could stand and embrace the man. "You make it sound like you've hardly ever been to dinner here before."

"Not with company like this." Mark Berry replied with a smile, though his gaze lingered on Puck for just a moment too long.

Really? Rach had never had a family dinner with a boyfriend before?

Smiling up at the two men as they bent down to kiss her cheek, his mother's gaze darted to him quickly as well as she said, "I hope you boys don't mind if I sit here for just a while longer. I need to let that dinner settle."

Knowing exactly what she was up to, Puck went to stand, about to offer to walk Rachel's fathers out, when Mark stopped him. "Don't get up. Rach can walk us out." Leaning in, he stage-whispered, "And we'd love a few moments alone to gossip about you."

"Dad!" Rachel protested, frowning but laughing at his behaviour.

Puck's eyes darted up to meet Rachel's, silently begging her to stay, but the slight shake of her head let him down. He had to deal with his mother on his own, while she dealt with her fathers. Awesome.

Shaking both men's hands and saying goodbye, Puck turned back to his plate and sat silently as Rachel walked her fathers out, just waiting for his mother to lay into him with whatever she needed to say.

It didn't take her long either. "Rachel isn't like your usual tarts," Deborah pointed out bluntly, picking up her finished meal and getting to her feet to take the plate back to the kitchen. "And she's too well-mannered to allow you to man-handle her at the kitchen table in front of family."

"I know that," he snapped, not really wanting to hear advice about his fake relationship from his own mother.

Frowning at him, Deborah said, "Don't speak to me in that tone, Noah. I'm only trying to look out for you. If you have any hope of keeping this relationship you need to stop fooling around and start acting a little more seriously. Rachel is a good girl. I don't want you to ruin this."

Sighing, Puck covered his face with his hands and took a couple of deep breaths. Honestly, he was surprised she'd managed to keep that opinion to herself for this long. Getting to his feet and collecting his and Rachel's plates, he took them over to the kitchen as well. "I'm not about to ruin things on purpose, Ma," he told her as Rachel walked back into the room.

Sending one last disapproving stare in his direction, Deborah smiled brightly at Rachel and thanked her for dinner, saying she would get out of their hair and let them have some alone time.

The swift glance Rachel sent him and the rosy blush on her cheeks had Puck smiling once more.

Walking the woman to Rachel's door, Puck leaned in to kiss his mother's cheek in farewell and watched bemused as she then hugged Rachel, gushing for a moment as how lovely some flowers or other looked in her front garden. Stepping forward, he slipped his arm around Rachel's shoulders, ignoring the way she instantly tensed beneath him, and joking told him mother to hurry up and get home.

Thinking of the way Rachel had begun to respond to him early, he wondered for a moment if he _was_ actually joking. Getting that woman out of the house so he could try his luck again sounded like a damn good idea.

"Oh, fine you devil of a boy. I'm leaving. Take care Rachel, I'll see you both at temple." The pointed look she sent him then didn't go unnoticed, and Rachel giggled softly as she waved good bye. And yet she still stood tense beneath his arm, shoulders hunched slightly as if she were uncomfortable.

As his mother climbed into her car and started the engine, he wondered just how long it would take before Rachel would criticize him for something. So he silently started counting down from five as his mother pulled out and disappeared down the road. Five, four, three …

Rachel turned on him. "What were you doing?" she hissed.

"What?" He asked innocently, his fingers lightly caressing the skin of her arm. "Nothing, I'm just standing here waving goodbye to my mother after a dinner with her, my girlfriend and her dads."

A small frustrated huff followed his words, and he had to chuckle. "But what's with this?" She asked, motioning at where his arm still rested against her shoulders. "Why are you doing all … this?"

"Rachel," he said, amusement colouring his tone. "I can barely stay away from you at the best of times. If we were actually dating, don't you think I'd have my hands on you every chance I got?"

That seemed to shut her up. Blushing furiously, she just gazed up at him for a time, looking like she was trying to think of something to say.

And all he could think of was how close her lips were.

"Rach," he said seriously, wanting her to know that he really meant the words he was about to say. "I'm gonna kiss you, right now. I'm gonna kiss you and I'm not gonna stop unless you tell me to. If you do, I'll walk straight out this door and that'll be it. But you gotta say something _now_ or …"

It sounded like a threat, but it wasn't. Not really. He just couldn't keep stepping back anymore. He'd behaved – surprisingly – and had stopped whenever she asked, but the more and more he tried to convince her to give in the longer things seemed to last before she eventually chickened out and turned him down. The longer she left things, the more into he got, and he didn't want to get to the point where he just couldn't pull back.

Puck knew without a doubt that the only reason she pushed him away was because _he let her_. If he put his mind to it, she wouldn't stop until it was too late. But this was _Rachel_. Forgetting their past, forgetting this stupid arrangement, forgetting everything else, she was _good_. He couldn't do that to her.

But she wasn't saying anything.

"Rach?"


	10. Chapter 10

They were standing in her open doorway, having this conversation for the whole street to see. Noah hadn't been explicit with his wording and yet it wasn't difficult to determine exactly what he meant; she had to speak up now, or he would to drag her inside and have his way with her.

That wouldn't be how Noah would put it of course, nor could she ever imagine him uttering the words 'making love'. The word _he_ would use made Rachel shiver in anticipation and it didn't surprise her when his sharp eyes caught the movement.

"Rach?" He queried again, his voice dropping to that incredibly low volume that only made her predicament worse. "If you don't want to do this, say something."

Didn't he get it? "Noah ... I'm not saying anything."

He growled softly, frustrated. "Then how am I supposed—"

"No, I mean ... Sorry, I'm being difficult. I'm _purposefully_ not saying anything because you said ... I mean I don't ..." Annoyed at her inability to voice her thoughts, Rachel stamped her foot on the ground. She couldn't explain herself, couldn't speak what was on her mind and what had been fitting around in her head all through dinner, ever since he'd caged her against the kitchen counter. Again.

She'd never be able to look at kitchens the same when this was over.

But there was no good reason why she couldn't take him up on his offer. No, that wasn't true – because there were plenty of reasons why she shouldn't, but there were also reasons why she _should_ that she really ought to take into consideration. They weren't teenagers anymore and she wasn't as naive as she once was. Rachel knew that there were risks, of course there were, but she was much more capable of looking after herself and taking care of her heart now.

She hoped.

No, of course she was. She _knew_ this would only be about the physical, no emotions – after all, Noah had said himself that he wasn't the relationship type, that this would be 'just sex'. For once she would move forward knowing right from the start that was the most she would get out of him, and she'd be able to protect herself. There was still that niggling thought in the back of her mind that this could go horribly wrong, but Rachel had spent the last few hours assuring herself it would be fine, that she knew what she was doing.

And apparently Noah had figured it out, too.

His expression had taken on an unmistakable intent as he guided her inside, shutting the door carefully behind them.

Wetting her suddenly dry lips, Rachel took a couple of steps away, wanting a little distance between the two of them so she could attempt to explain her decision. But for every step she took, Noah followed closely behind until her hip knocked against the chest of drawers to the right of her front door and he tried to corner her against it.

"Noah." Sidestepping him, retreating further into the house, Rachel tried to explain. "We're two consenting adults."

His lips quirked just slightly as he followed her. "Yeah."

Stumbling a little on the rug protecting an empty stretch of floor by her dining table, she shifted and continued backing away from him down the hallway. "And this is nothing we haven't done before."

"Right."

That smile made her shiver with long-ago memories of their past, a past he was obviously thinking of as well. He may be finally getting his own way, but did he have to look so smug about it? "So there's no reason why we shouldn't enjoy this situation we've found ourselves in."

Freezing when her hand brushed against the doorframe of her bedroom, Rachel finally slowed her steps, wishing she knew what was going on in Noah's mind as he continued to smirk down at her. "Exactly."

"I suggest we—"

"Babe," he finally interrupted, catching her wrists in his hands and moving into her personal space, his chest inches from hers. "Stop talking and kiss me."

Despite her decision, despite finally admitting to herself that she _wanted_ this, Rachel hesitated just once more.

As soon as she kissed him, that would be it. There would be no turning back again. The pressure of this decision and the knowledge that everything from here on out hinged on this one moment held her back for just a little longer.

Then she cast it all aside and took the plunge.

Feeling that first lick of excitement run through her at Noah's needy groan when their lips finally touched, Rachel stifled another shiver as he circled her waist with his arms and yanked her against him. But the sweetness of that first brief touch quickly faded and a hot urgency stole over the two of them as he claimed her lips over and over again.

Their bodies pressed together. Rachel reached up to grip his shoulder tightly in one hand, tugging at his shirt with the other, silently begging him to come that little bit closer.

Noah grabbed her hips, pushed her back against the doorframe and continued to assault her senses. His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck and she gasped at the scrape of his teeth.

"Noah." She reached blindly for the door, pressing it open. "The bedroom…"

"Not yet." His hands dipped to her waist and lower, kneading her thighs and ass and making her whole body ache to feel those hands elsewhere.

As much as the thought of drawing this out in her hallway made her weak at the knees, Rachel wanted —_needed_— Noah to lay her down and … "Noah, _please_."

The wicked grin that crossed his face as she begged made her wonder if that had been his angle all along. But she didn't have the heart to scold him as he gripped the back of her thighs, lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

* * *

Stretching languidly and letting out a soft moan when her thighs twitched in protest, Rachel rolled over and buried her face against the softness of her pillow. Her arm stretched to the side as she sought the body lying next to her, only to grasp at nothing

Eyes opening with a start, Rachel looked over at where her hand lay among the cold rumpled sheets of her bed.

Noah was gone.

Dragging her hand underneath her to push her body up from the bed, she looked around the room. His clothes, which she had expected to be strewn all over the floor mixed with her own, were gone. The door to her bathroom was ajar but she couldn't see any movement in the room beyond, and when she concentrated she couldn't hear any sounds from the rest of the house either.

_Just sex._

If she'd had even a slither of hope about this situation being any different to how he'd originally described it, those hopes were dashed now.

Dropping back against the pillows with a sigh, Rachel twisted her head to see the time and noticed her phone flashing on the bedside table. Reaching over, she couldn't help the smile that bloomed as she read the message she had received.

[ _Late for work. Had to run. Soz. Make it up to ya 2nite_ ]

She could only think of one way he'd want to make it up to her. Her body shivered at the thought.

When the phone vibrated again in her hand, the ringtone loud in the quiet of her room, Rachel felt a warm blush travel down her neck when she read the name on the display.

"Hi Noah." She wished her voice didn't sound so breathless.

There was a short pause. "What're you doing, babe?" His voice was low, curious, and did nothing to help Rachel's already heated thoughts.

"Just … thinking."

"That doesn't sound good." Another short pause followed in which she could hear soft tinkering in the background and Burt's rough voice calling out something in the workshop.

But the sounds and voices were fading, and Rachel listened carefully, wondering what Noah was doing.

"Sorry, just walking through to the office." A door swung shut somewhere in the background, and everything turned quiet. "So …"

Shifting in her bed, adjusting the pillows so she could sit upright comfortably, Rachel mimicked him. "So …"

"What're you thinking about? You're not regretting last night, are you?" He chuckled. "Because it was fucking awesome."

Her blush deepened at his words. "It was quite … awesome, yes. But I'm not thinking of regrets, Noah, don't worry."

"What are you thinking of then?"

Biting her lip, Rachel stayed silent, memories of the night before flashing through her mind.

Noah was becoming particularly adept at reading her thoughts. "_Babe._" His tone was hot, and frustrated.

The safety of the phone line and being hidden under the covers made her feel particularly bold. "You should come here for lunch."

But as always, Noah was bolder. "I know what I want to eat."

The moan that escaped her lips was completely involuntary, and she heard Noah swear under his breath.

"There's something I'd definitely love to sink my teeth into right now." His long, heavy sigh sounded so disheartened she just had to giggle. "But I can't leave, we're flat out," he said, as sincerely apologetic as she'd ever heard him to be. "But if you're lucky, I'll lock myself in the office and call you."

"Aren't you in the office now …?" She shouldn't goad him. He had to work, she should let him go.

"I … can't do this right now. We've got Ray Baxter's car in bits across the shop, and the old bat from the Newsagent is supposed to be bringing her rust bucket in any minute, and—"

"Okay, okay."

A few heated promises later, Rachel hung up the phone and sighed. The smile that was hovering on her lips faded a little. This rush, this heated need for Noah Puckerman, she'd felt all this before. And it had never ended well.

Covering her face with her hands, Rachel took a deep breath and shook her head. This time was different. This time there was already an expiration date on their relationship.

She just had to hold out a little longer without falling in love with him all over again.

* * *

Hanging up, Puck couldn't seem to wipe the smile from his face. That woman. Man, oh, man. She could do things to him with her voice alone.

Pocketing his phone, Puck went to stand just as Burt burst into the office.

"What're you doing, kid? Get out there, we're running behind as it is."

"Just had to take a call."

He went to pass the older man, but paused when a hand blocked his way.

Eyeing him carefully, Burt asked, "Was that Rachel?"

Puck frowned. "Yeah."

Hi gaze turned thoughtful, and he crossed his arms. "You two serious this time or something?"

Puck scratched the back of his head, unsure how to take the question, or where this was going. But his main thought was what his mother would think if she happened to talk to Burt. "Yeah, I guess," he hedged. Damn this charade crap.

"You're looking after her, aren't you?" Puck's surprise must have shown, because Burt went on to say, "Look, if I don't ask the questions Kurt's going to be on my back about it, alright? I'm covering my ass here."

Puck chuckled, until Burt gripped his shoulder.

"But seriously now, look after her. She's a nice girl, and I know you two have had ... dealings in the past." Burt cleared his throat. "So, that's that, and that's all I'm going to say about the matter."

Watching as his boss left for the workshop again, Puck frowned as the door swung closed behind him. Look after her? What was that supposed to mean? Kicking at a stray bolt as he made his way back through the garage, he considered the words. Sure, Rachel and he had gotten together and broken it off a few times, but she was a big girl. She could obviously handle herself.

She certainly handled herself last night.

The smirk returned to his face as he started work on Ray Baster's car again. But that niggling thought, that sense that people thought he might hurt Rachel, wouldn't leave his mind.


End file.
